Dismantle : Repair
by Eleantris
Summary: Three years after the war, and a lot has changed. The Daily Prophet has lost its former glory and Severus has made a groundbreaking discovery. But when it draws him and Hermione together, they set off down a rocky road of attraction, love and loss. HG/SS.
1. Achieving the Impossible

_**Hi, well here is the first chapter for my new HG/SS story! The title comes from a song of the same name by a brilliant band called Anberlin, who I highly recommend! I thought up the idea for this story whilst listening to it, and it fits in with the plotline later on, so there you go! Also, just to say, this is an 'eventual HG/SS' story, so I won't be plunging right in there with the Hermione/Severus action, it'll take some back-story and plot building, but when it does come, there'll be lots of it, I promise you!**_

_**I hope you enjoy the chapter and reviews are more than welcome!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just playing around with JK's creations.**_

_**Chapter 1 – Achieving the Impossible**_

* * *

Smiling smugly to herself, Hermione sat down at her desk and picked up that morning's copy of _The Phoenix_, a thrill of pride rushing through her as she read the headline that she herself had written.

PHOENIX SALES SOAR ABOVE PROPHET'S

It was simple, but catchy, she liked to think. Not to mention the satisfying truth that sat comfortably behind the words. It was true; since _The Phoenix_ had been set up a year ago by Hestia Jones, Bill Weasley and herself, it had quickly managed to sell far more copies than _The Daily Prophet_, thus becoming the Wizarding population of Britain's favourite mainstream newspaper. She smiled again, thinking of Rita Skeeter's face when she saw the headline. Where was Colin Creevey when you needed him?

_Here at _The Phoenix, _we are delighted that our reader's appreciate the honesty with which our journalists write, our unbiased approach to the news and the individuality that the paper possesses. We, unlike _The Daily Prophet_, are not influenced or pressurised by the Ministry or any other organisation, and many readers have written to us to express their admiration for that fact. We cover every side of every story and are dedicated to presenting the news to the nation, and that, we've been told, is the secret to our success. And if you want to know our honest opinion, we think so too. _

_So today, on the one year anniversary of _The Phoenix_'s launch, we would like to thank each and every one of you for reading, subscribing to and supporting the paper over the past year. We hope there are many more successful years to come and we will, as always, endeavour to get the news to you as quickly and as fairly as we always have. _

_Many thanks, _

_Hestia Jones. Editor._

"So, what do you think?"

Hermione looked up to see Hestia, her good friend and boss, stood in front of her desk with a smile just as wide as her own. "Brilliant," she said, standing up. "Just brilliant; couldn't have said it better myself."

Hestia laughed, smoothing back her long, raven coloured hair. "Well, here's to another year of writing till two o'clock in the morning and spending tedious hours organising interviews with anyone and everyone."

Nodding, Hermione glanced at her watch. "So, in light of recent achievements, do you think I can go early to lunch?"

"Hm..." Hestia pretended to look thoughtful. "Meeting up with Carl, are we?"

Feeling slight colour rise in her cheeks, Hermione smiled and began gathering her quill, ink and parchment into a bag. "Possibly," she replied, shrinking the bag and placing it into her pocket.

"You better go then," she told her with a knowing wink. "But I want you back here in two hours, I need that article on new wand cores for tomorrow's paper!" she called as Hermione hurried towards the door.

"I'll be here," Hermione replied before she disappeared out of the door, a whirlwind of unruly curls and sapphire cloak.

* * *

The bitter January air hit Hermione mercilessly in the face as she left _The Phoenix_ offices, biting at her face until her skin felt raw. Drawing her cloak tighter around herself and casting the best warming charm she could, Hermione set off at a brisk walk towards Diagon Alley. _The Phoenix_ building was situated pretty much in the heart of Wizarding London, very close to Diagon Alley, but far away from any Ministerial influence. It was the perfect location: close to all the action, but far enough away from anything that could restrain it. She smiled again, feeling almost euphoric at the success the newspaper had achieved. Setting it up with Hestia and Bill was one of the best things she had ever done.

Hermione soon found herself outside her favourite cafe - a warm, cosy sort of place, tucked away down a small street just off Diagon Alley. As she pushed the door open, the warm air hit her freezing face like a blow to the head, making her feel slightly dizzy for a moment. Blinking, she pulled off her cloak and made her way over to the table where a broad-shouldered, light-haired man was waiting.

"Hestia let you go early then," he said, smiling as Hermione dropped her cloak over the back of the chair and sat down.

"Yeah," she said, a smile automatically springing to her lips as she met with his turquoise eyes. Leaning across the table slightly, he pressed his lips to hers, one hand gently cupping the side of her face.

"Missed you," he told her quietly, their faces still inches apart.

"Carl, you saw me this morning," Hermione replied, laughing slightly.

He shrugged, kissing her again. "It's been a busy morning, though something really interesting has happened."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, sitting back to look at the lunch menu. "What's that then?"

"I can't tell you here, but it's really exciting. I'll tell you all about it at home tonight."

Frowning, Hermione looked up to see a genuine excitement dancing in his bright eyes, the familiar easy-going smile spread across his face. "Why can't you tell me here, if it's so exciting?"

"That's the thing though," he groaned, quite obviously itching to tell her. "It's kind of a secret. As in, I'm allowed to tell you, but where others can't overhear." He gestured subtly to the other people sat at the neighbouring tables.

Curiosity was beginning to bubble in the pit of Hermione's stomach as he smiled excitedly and rested his head on his hands, eyes fixed on her. "Okay then, fine...but this better be good," she told him, setting down the menu. "You'll have me trying to guess all day now. You know I don't like not knowing things."

He laughed, reaching out a hand to wrap around hers on top of the table. "Tell me about it," he sighed, "I was two years above you in school _and_ in a separate house, but I still knew what a know-it-all you were."

"You can't talk," Hermione said back, narrowing her eyes at him. "You were in Ravenclaw."

"And?" he retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"_And_...Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind. Where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind."

Carl raised the other eyebrow. "Whoa, did you remember everything the sorting hat said?"

"Nah," she replied, chuckling. "Just the important stuff."

"Either way, it proves you're a know-it-all," he said, eyes sparkling as she pursed her lips in annoyance. "Oh come on," he laughed, squeezing her hand. "I know you love me really."

Sighing, Hermione's lips lifted slightly at the corners as she smiled, meeting his gaze. "You should think yourself lucky that I do bloody love you, or I'd have sent a very good bat-bogey hex your way by now."

"Aw," he said, sarcasm laced through his voice, "How romantic of you." He pulled back his hand from hers to prop his head up on it again. "Although, I do actually think myself lucky that you love me, and not just because it saves me from your bat-bogey hex, which I do happen to know are pretty nasty."

She smiled again, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

"I mean it," he said in a low voice, his face deadly serious now. "I love you."

"Love you too," she replied instantly, coyly bringing her eyes back up to lock with his again, "And not just because I get twenty-four hour care if I'm sick."

* * *

In that moment, sat in his London apartment reading _Potions Weekly_ and treating himself to a generous measure of Firewhiskey, Severus Snape was about as close as he could get to being what most people would call happy. He was certainly extremely satisfied, if nothing else. Yes, without being arrogant, he was quite proud of himself. He had just achieved what many Potioneers had been trying to achieve for centuries, not to mention dozens of magical specialists and charm investigators. He, Severus Snape, had achieved the impossible.

Setting down his now empty glass, Severus glanced around the tastefully decorated lounge and sighed. If only Lucius could see him now... Not that he was ever going to see the light of day again after being condemned to a cell in Azkaban for the rest of his days.

"Good riddance," he muttered under his breath as he got up off the couch. Following the war, a great number of people had fought to have his name cleared and amazingly, they had won. Potter, of course, had been amongst them, trying to do his bit for the man who had loved his beloved mother. Well, he could take his pity and shove it up the arse of that wretched sock-loving house elf of his, because _he_ had achieved the impossible. He didn't need pity.

Wearing something dangerously close to a smile, Severus picked up his empty glass and made his way over to the drinks cabinet, deciding that he more than deserved a refill. A few unopened letters sat on his windowsill, some yellowing from the exposure to the sun they had been forced to suffer over the few weeks they had been sat there. He would ignore them for the time being. Most of them would be from Minerva, and the last thing he needed was that woman's incessant nagging to dampen his unusually high spirits. He'd reply to them in a few days, or weeks...what did it matter?

No, nothing mattered. Because he'd done it. He'd finally done it.

* * *

_**As I said, reviews are more than welcome and I'd love to know your thoughts; constructive criticism or otherwise! Thanks for reading and a special thank you to TheFatalIllusion for being so awesome and for encouraging me with this!**_

_**X =D**_


	2. Good News

_**Hi, thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! Here's the second one, I hope you enjoy it and please keep the reviews coming! X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own the Potterverse, I just enjoy playing with it. **_

_**Chapter 2 – Good News**_

* * *

Hermione had a faraway look in her eyes as she put the stopper back in the top of her ink bottle and stowed it away in her bag. She had been puzzling over what Carl had told her at lunch all afternoon, only just being able to concentrate enough to finish the article on new wand cores for the next day's _Phoenix_.

She wondered what on earth Carl's great 'secret' could be. She couldn't help but feel a little frustrated at the fact that he knew something she didn't; she was a journalist for Merlin's sake, it was her _job_ to know all about the goings on of the Wizarding world. Yet there was this one 'significant event' which she was not privy to. Well, she would find out soon enough.

"Hermione, have you got that article for me? I need to check everything through before I send it all to printing."

Looking up at Hestia with a smile, Hermione opened a drawer in her desk and took out the completed article. "Here you go, all done."

Hestia returned the smile easily and took it from her. With a flick of her wand, the article had flown through the open door of her office and settled itself on her desk. "Thanks. You're free to go home to nursey-boy now," she laughed.

"He's not a nurse anymore," Hermione reminded her sternly, "He qualified as a Healer last month, I told you that."

"I know, I know," she said with a wave of the hand. "I'm just kidding. Go on, have a nice night with your hunky Healer."

"Well you got that right," Hermione laughed. She quickly gathered up the rest of her things and shrunk the bag to fit in her pocket. "Bye everyone, see you tomorrow!"

Her fellow journalists, amongst them Hannah Abbott and Oliver Wood, waved her goodbye as they finished up on their own reports for the evening. After sustaining a serious injury that had left him unable to play professional Quidditch anymore, Oliver had turned to journalism and in him, _The Phoenix_ had found a truly excellent sports reporter. They were lucky to have him, really.

* * *

"Hermione, is that you?" Carl called as she entered their apartment.

"Who else would it be?" she called back, walking through to find him sat in the lounge.

"I could have been expecting the Minister for Magic," he replied with a shrug, grinning at her. "How was your afternoon?"

Smiling, Hermione dropped down beside him on the couch. "Good." She stretched out to lie down with her head in his lap. "I finished my articles, arranged a few interviews...Nothing spectacularly interesting."

Carl nodded. "So," he said teasingly as he threaded his fingers through her messy curls. "After your completely uninteresting day, I'm guessing you don't want to hear about my interesting thing that I told you about..."

"No!" she exclaimed, shooting up into a sitting position. "Tell me! I've been puzzling over that all afternoon!"

To her annoyance, he laughed. "Sorry," he said, shifting his body into a more comfortable position. "Your head must be about ready to explode, my little know it all."

The curiosity gnawing at the back of Hermione's mind was now back in full force, making her itch with desperation. "Come on, Carl. Stop enjoying this and tell me what's going on."

Sighing, he gave her a gentle smile and launched into his explanation, knowing that holding back any longer would just annoy her. "Well, you know how Severus Snape now develops and improves potions to sell to the Ministry for testing, so they can be used at St. Mungo's?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied with a nod. She could remember the uproar her potions professor had caused when he left Hogwarts a year after the war; it had taken Professor McGonagall months to find what she called a 'suitable' replacement. Privately, Hermione thought that the old woman would secretly miss the snarky bat of the dungeons. "Go on."

"Well," Carl said again, leaning forward. "He's had an amazing breakthrough - truly, truly amazing. I mean, I know you, Ron and Harry don't like him much, but seriously, Hermione, that man is a genius."

She frowned. "I don't not like him, Carl, and neither do the others. We actually really respect him for what he did for us all. It's just...he really isn't all that pleasant to be around, noble or not." Sighing, she shook her head dismissively. "That's beside the point anyway. What is it he's done?"

A wide smile spread across her boyfriend's face and his eyes lit up, much the same way as hers did whenever she mentioned '_Hogwarts: A History_'. "Right, so you know how there's no counter curse for permanent memory charms such as _Obliviate_? Well Snape has amazingly managed to develop a new potion that reverses the effects completely!" His dark blue eyes danced with excitement as he spoke, wonder clear in his voice. "It's simply genius. It completely returns the victims to their previous mental state, with all their memories intact again. Of course, it still has to undergo tests but...wow! It's just amazing; I don't know how in Merlin's name he did it! Just think of how many beds this will free up at the hospital, not to mention funds...and, it'll change so many people's lives..." he trailed off as he looked up again at Hermione. "Sorry, I'm rambling. But what do you think? It's amazing, isn't it?"

For a few moments, Hermione couldn't say anything. She felt like someone had momentarily swiped every essence of speech from her mind as she gaped at Carl, her mind racing. He was right, this was amazing. There were so many families out there, so many people whose lives had been ruined by a memory charm. Whether they were close to the victim, or were the victim themselves. Those people had lost everything they held dear, everything that had built them to be the person they were. All those little choices, those little things that shape a person's past and present...gone. In one charm. She had always felt a deep sorrow course through her at the thought of being _Obliviated_. The idea of not being able to recall who Harry, Carl or Ron were, of not knowing who her parents were when they talked to her. The thought of not being able to remember Hogwarts, the war, or anything that had happened in her life so far was terrifying. In some ways, she'd rather be dead.

But now, what Professor Snape had done... Sarcastic, snarky, patronising, condescending Professor Snape... He had changed all that. He had, in effect, saved thousands of people's lives. She knew, from reading his publications in potions magazines, and from witnessing his role in the war, that he was an impossibly clever man. A genius, with an intellectual mind to rival no other. But this...this was something else. This was, quite simply, unbelievable.

"It's amazing," she finally said, her mouth still hanging slightly open. "It's just..." Trailing off, she shook her head and brought her gaze up to meet Carl's. There weren't words.

Carl nodded, the wide smile still in place as he pulled Hermione back against him and wrapped his arms around her slender frame. "Anyway, it's all a little more complicated than that, which is why I wanted to tell you here and not in the cafe."

Hermione twisted her head to look round at him. "Let me guess, the Ministry is keeping everything under wraps until the tests are complete. They do like their secrets still, don't they?"

Letting out a huff of laughter, Carl nodded as she turned around to lean back on him and he rested his chin on the top of her head. "No-one's allowed to tell the public about the potion until the 31st of January; so that means no telling anyone else, no writing letters and no newspaper reports. However..."

"What?" Hermione asked, frowning out of curiosity. "I understand all that, but what's with the however?"

He smiled, taking his chin from the top of her head. "The Ministry have asked me to tell you all this specially, because, St. Mungo's wants _The Phoenix_ to be the first to release the news. _The Prophet_ don't even know about the potion, and if all goes to plan, it'll stay that way and they won't know until they read your exclusive." The grin grew wider. "You've got a whole month to put together an in detail report about all this, to be released on the 31st. This is your golden ticket, Hermione."

Her mouth fell open. Just...fell open. After pausing for a shocked second or two, Hermione twisted around to face the young Healer, her eyes wide with excitement. "So you're saying that St. Mungo's has given _The Phoenix_ license to work on an exclusive report, so long as we keep everything under wraps and don't release it till the end of this month?" Her heart was pounding as, for the second time that day, she pictured Rita Skeeter's face. Merlin, she'd look like a child whose puppy had been kicked. "Are you being serious?"

Carl smiled again and nodded, his hands coming up to cup her face. "I've never been more serious. Of course, there'll be papers for everyone at _The Phoenix_ to sign for legal purposes but yes, you can go into work tomorrow and tell everyone the good news!"

Hermione grinned, excitement bursting from within her. "Did I ever tell you that you are the most amazing boyfriend to ever live?"

Carl laughed. "No, I don't think you did..."

"Well, then," she said, kissing his lips quickly. "You are."

Pulling her closer, Carl pressed his lips to hers again, kissing her soundly. "Why thank you very much," he said quietly, tangling his fingers in her hair. "You know, I forgot to make the bed this morning..."

Hermione giggled, her forehead pressing against his as their warm breath intermingled. "Well then, Mr Dixon, we might have to go sort that out."

* * *

Severus pulled the blinds down on the large sash windows, engulfing his lounge in darkness for all of a few seconds before flames flared up on the candles at the wave of his wand. With a sigh, he sat down on the couch facing the fireplace that he never used and leant forward to pick up that day's _Phoenix_. Sitting back in his seat as he opened the paper, Severus had to admit that yes, he enjoyed reading the paper now that Ministry bias and corruption was nowhere to be seen. And, if he ignored the fact that Granger had written a good handful of the articles in there, he could consider it a trustworthy and readable paper, unlike that other pile of garbage that half the Wizarding World had forgotten the name of.

But as he looked down at the inside page, there she was: the fountain of all knowledge – useless and otherwise. A sarcastic smile graced his lips as he read the article from the editor – former Auror, Hestia Jones. She was praising her whole team, particularly Granger, for helping to make _The Phoenix_ what it was. It was cheesy, but to the point. He couldn't help it; his eyes drifted over to the picture, where Granger and Jones stood side by side, smiling for the camera. He watched as the Granger girl reached up to brush an errant curl from her face again and again and again. Well it couldn't be denied that she had turned out be a good looking girl...woman... Woman? Was she a woman?

Severus frowned, trying to think in terms of years and events. Everything since the war had passed by in a rather strange fashion – not fast, but not particularly slowly, either. He guessed that was how life normally was, when there were no Dark Lords to spy on and fight against. It was three years since the war now – two since he had abandoned his post at Hogwarts in search of greener, more interesting pastures. She must be, oh...twenty one now, and he almost forty. Forty...

Groaning, Severus looked over to the small pile of unopened post by his window. Of course. Birthday cards. That was why he had been receiving more post than usual; he was going to turn forty in just a few days. Well, how nice of everyone to point that wonderful fact out to him.

Without a word muttered under his breath, Severus swept over to the window, gathered up the post and, after checking quickly that there wasn't anything from anyone important, he gracefully flung the whole lot in the bin. He didn't want birthday cards. What was the point in them? They just sat there on top of the fireplace, with their ridiculously colourful covers, looking pretty. And he didn't care about things looking pretty... Well, apart from that Granger girl-woman... But that was another matter entirely and one that hadn't really bothered him before.

With another sigh, Severus shook his head and decided to retire once more to bed. Maybe he could enjoy the last few days of being in his thirties in peace...maybe.

* * *

_**Well, I've tried not to end on a cliff-hanger this time, I just hope I succeeded! Thanks for reading, and please leave your thoughts in a review! Chocolate frogs are given to all reviewers! Also, just to say, I know I've technically made Severus a year younger, but that's just for convenience for me, really.**_

_**X =D**_


	3. A Death Wish

_**Thank you very much for all your reviews, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and please keep the comments coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter does not belong to me, and I'm pretty skint, so I won't be buying it anytime soon! =D**_

_**Chapter 3 – A Death Wish**_

* * *

He loved the way people generally tended to avoid him in the streets. It was ironic really, when you thought about it. In the last two years, he had developed quite a few potions that these people most probably used regularly to cure their various ailments and diseases. Yet, they still couldn't bear to look him in the eye. He'd brought comfort and ease of pain to many of them, but still they regarded him as something better left avoided. If it weren't quite so insulting, he'd laugh at the sheer irony of it.

"Well, they'll see," he huffed quietly under his breath as he turned into the bookstore. Hartington's Bookstore was down a side street off Diagon Alley and, unlike Flourish and Blotts, didn't constantly house a massive crowd of people. There were tall bookshelves that stretched all the way up to the high, wooden ceiling, finely made iron ladders that slid from side to side so you could reach as high as you liked, and finally, there was the _smell_. It was the pure and stimulating scent of fresh parchment, polished wood and ancient knowledge that had first drawn him to the bookstore in the first place, exactly two years ago. There had never been a book he couldn't find in Hartington's.

"Good morning, Mister Snape." The usual quiet greeting came from the oak counter as he entered, rather than the tolling of one of those ridiculous bells that many shops thought prudent to place over their doors. He was Severus Snape, bat of the dungeons – he liked the slip into places silently. Where was the element of surprise if a bloody bell rang as soon as you entered somewhere?

"Good morning," he replied with a curt nod to the thin, wizened old woman that stood there, watching him with unusually bright eyes for her age. Two years Severus Snape had been coming to her shop, and though he barely ever spoke, Henrietta Hartington knew that he was an intelligent and good man. Her back pain had improved by a long way since he had developed a faster acting potion for it, and though she didn't dare say it, she was eternally grateful. Though maybe, just maybe, she thought, looking at him as he browsed the shelves, she _should_ thank him. Should let him know, quietly, that she was grateful for the work he had done. She got the impression that not many other people did appreciate what he had done, both now and in the past.

Glancing over at him again, a small smile graced her wrinkled lips. He took the books from the shelves with such reverent care, paged through them slowly and, if they weren't what he wanted, he put them back exactly where they had come from. And that made her happy, very happy. Because what with her strength not being what it used to be, and her energy levels, she was glad that at least someone had the courtesy put the books back where they were supposed to be so that she didn't have to rearrange them. Again.

Feeling the old woman's gaze on his back, Severus moved slowly to the back of the shop where the older books resided. He liked Mrs Hartington; she didn't talk much. He liked that – people who didn't talk much. Of course, on the most part, people avoided him, but if they did talk to him, it was to gush over a potion he had made, to shower him with compliments and false affection. After everything with Dumbledore and Voldemort, the last thing he wanted around him was a fake.

"Just those?" Mrs Hartington asked him as he set two leather bound books onto the counter – one black, one blue.

"Yes," he said, taking the wallet from within his robes.

Giving him a slight smile, she slipped the two books into a brown paper bag and pushed them over to him. "That'll be seven galleons and three sickles, my dear."

Severus stiffened. My dear? Dear? She had called him _dear_. Why? The last time someone had used a term of endearment towards him was...Well, come to think of it, he didn't think anyone had ever called him dear, or sweetheart, or love. Not that he was complaining, not one bit. He didn't want to be called any of those; he wanted to be left alone. Something Minerva just didn't understand.

Inwardly shaking his head, Severus decided to ignore it and took the money from his wallet. "Seven galleons and three sickles," he stated, dropping the money into her weathered hand. "Good day."

Henrietta paused, glancing up at him. A mixture of daring and courage rushed through her tired bones and before he had completely turned away, she held a hand out. "Oh, Mister Snape?"

He turned, wondering what on earth the old woman wanted with him now. Was even she, who he could always rely on to mind her own business, turning into a busy-body too? "Yes?"

Her expression softened, her eyes sincere as she smiled gently at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the work you did on the potion for pain relief a few months ago. My back doesn't bother me nearly as much now, thank you."

For a moment, Severus couldn't really do anything but blink. Well that was...odd. Then, he suddenly found himself saying, "You're welcome," before turning smoothly on his heel and exiting the shop. Once outside, he stopped and glanced around the empty alleyway.

There was a strange mix of emotions knotted up in his chest: shock, confusion and, surprisingly, contentment. He was glad – glad that someone at least appreciated his work, but at the same time, appreciated the fact that he hated showers of forced compliments and insincerity. Her simple 'thank you' seemed to ring in his head, the image of her bright eyes still prominent whenever he blinked. Now that he thought about it, her eyes twinkled in an annoyingly familiar fashion.

* * *

Hermione knocked hurriedly on the door to Hestia's office, a smile dancing on her lips as she tried to contain her excitement. The news of Snape's new potion had barely left her thoughts since Carl had told her the night before, and now she was desperate to tell Hestia the good news. They had a month, just a month to plan and put together an article that presented all the information to the public – it was a challenge, and that was partly why Hermione was so excited. She had always been thrilled by something new, something tricky that required thought and planning and the perfect execution and...

"Hermione? Hermione? Hello?"

Snapping her head up, Hermione took in Hestia's frown as her hand waved in front of her eyes. "Oh, sorry – I was miles away," she said, her smile growing wider. "I've got something to tell you."

Hestia smiled and opened her office door further to admit Hermione in. As soon as she had shut it behind them, she turned. "I know."

Hermione frowned. "You know?"

The smile didn't leave the former Auror's face as she nodded and pushed back a strand of ebony black hair from her face. "A Ministry official from the department of Medicinal Potions Research visited me last night and told me all about it."

Hermione eyes lit up. "Did they tell you about the-"

"Yes, I know about the request from St. Mungo's that we deliver the news to the public."

"And about-"

"Yes, yes," Hestia said with a smile, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "I know about the secrecy forms, there's a solicitor coming in later with papers for us to sign." Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Hestia cut her off before she could say anything at all. "And before you ask, yes I know we only have a month and yes, I know _The Prophet_ hasn't been told. It's our little secret."

Grinning, Hermione hugged her friend. "It's our very big secret," she corrected, running a hand through her mass of curls. "Do the others know yet?"

"No, but I've called a meeting to tell them all about it. We, my friend, have some planning to do."

* * *

Three hours later, and _The Phoenix_ office was practically buzzing with excitement, chatter and the hurried scratching of quills on parchment. All the legal papers had been signed, jobs allocated and rough plans drawn up. Hestia had announced to the team that there was to be a four page exclusive article on the potion, with a brief outline, a more detailed article about the technical ins and outs of the potion, hopefully some sort of interview with or at least statements from the creator himself, and finally, a piece containing information on how the Wizarding World stood to benefit from the almost unbelievable breakthrough.

At half past five, Hermione was still sat at her desk, scribbling down notes at an alarming rate. She was in charge of co-ordinating the whole exclusive; it was her job to bring together the different sections so as to complement each other on the page, to put the right message and approach to the story across and to ensure everyone was on task. Hestia would still have to be in charge of making sure _The Phoenix_ was released perfectly with completed articles on every day until the thirty-first; she couldn't co-ordinate everything.

Half an hour later, when the office was pretty much empty, Hermione was still sat there, going through her planning notes and lists when a frown crossed her face. Quickly, she got up and went over to where Hestia was talking to some of the men from printing.

"Hestia?"

She turned. "Oh, yes, you can go you know, Hermione! Don't spend all night here on my account."

"Oh no, that wasn't it. I was just off home in a minute anyway, but I was just wondering..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "You said we should try and talk to Snape...But you didn't say who..."

"Oh!" Hestia exclaimed, nodding. Placing a hand on Hermione's upper arm, she smiled. "Well, I was hoping that maybe you, as a former pupil, might be up for trying to get an interview with him."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Her eyes widened. She felt like her stomach had just dropped from her body. "M-Me?" she asked, stumbling over the concept. "You want _me_ to interview him?"

Hestia nodded, still smiling. "Yes, I just think you'd be the best for the job, Hermione. What's wrong? You were gushing not two hours ago over what a genius you thought he was and how much you admired his intelligence and perseverance with developing the potion."

"Well, erm...yes, but, erm..." Hermione gulped, trying to form some coherent answer. "Hestia," she said quietly, urgency clear in her tone. "I can't just go walking up to his front door and ask for an interview – I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a Gryffindor and he taught me for six years. Not to mention how many school rules I broke while I was there. He hates me."

Hestia put her head on one side, shaking it slightly. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you, Hermione. It's been five years since he last taught you. No-one holds a grudge for that long."

Hermione merely raised her eyebrows. "Voldemort killed the woman he loved, so he worked as a spy against him for _eighteen_ years. Oh no, the man doesn't hold grudges."

Hestia couldn't help it, and she burst out laughing. "Okay, okay!" she exclaimed, holding up a hand. "I get it, but please, I just think if anyone can do it, you can. Just try, for me. He isn't all that bad you know."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, looking resignedly at her boss. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?" she asked innocently, smiling.

"You know what look," Hermione huffed. "Okay, look, I'll try talking to him. But don't get over-excited, I doubt I'll get more than a 'Get out and never come back, Miss Granger' out of him."

Hestia grinned. "All I ask is that you try. Thank you!"

"Humph," Hermione said as she picked up her bag from her desk. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," she replied with a nod. "Bye."

* * *

As soon as she got outside into the cold January air, Hermione stopped. What in Merlin's name had she just agreed to? Snape was never going to talk to her; he'd just tell her to keep her nose out of his business and probably make some snarky comment about her hair, or her teeth, neither of which looked as they used to. But still, he'd come up with _something_.

Groaning to herself, she started walking towards an Apparition Point and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. A cold was the last thing she needed on top of all the planning she had to do, not to mention the interview problem. Why? Why had she given in? She shook her head, deciding that she must have a death wish or something. Snape was going to hex her into next week just for coming within a mile of his private property.

* * *

_**That's all for now, folks! Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading and please leave a review. They make my day! A quick thank you to TheFatalIllusion for being so encouraging and such an awesome friend.**_

_**X =D**_


	4. Cards, Presents and Unwanted Visitors

_**Thank you for all your kind reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! You might be wondering what went on with Ron and stuff by this stage, but don't worry, it'll all be explained at some point or another! Thanks and please keep the reviews coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just messing around. **_

_**Chapter 4 – Cards, Presents and Unwanted Visitors**_

* * *

"So how was your day?" Carl asked, looking up from his book as Hermione came through the door. "You're usually back earlier than this."

Groaning, Hermione shrugged off her cloak and dropped down onto the sofa with a soft thump. "Sorry. I got carried away planning and yeah, I was having a really great day until around six o'clock."

"Why's that then?"

Hermione sighed and pulled the clip from her hair; she'd put it up halfway through the afternoon to keep it out of the way as she made notes. "Hestia wants an interview with Snape for the article, and she wants me to do it." She hung her head and groaned again, leaning back against him. "And I agreed, being the masochist that I am."

"You're not a masochist," Carl told her softly, resting his arms comfortably around her. "You just don't like disappointing people." He kissed the top of her head. "Besides, what's so bad about interviewing Snape? He's not going to hurt you, and you're a big girl now, he's hardly going to start terrorising you like when we were at school."

Hermione looked unsure. "Carl, it was different for you though. You weren't the best friend of James Potter's son and you didn't steal from his private stores countless times. And you weren't in Gryffindor," she pointed out. "He hated me and I'm telling you, he probably still does."

"You stole from Snape's private stores?" Carl asked, impressed.

"Yup," she replied with a sigh. "He's just going to slam the door in my face, I know it."

"And so what if he does?" Carl said, chuckling. "Then you be your usual stubborn self and pound on the door, refusing to stop until he lets you in. Where's that Gryffindor courage got to?"

"You're right," Hermione said with a sigh as she twisted around onto his lap, her arms slipping around his neck. "I'm being an idiot. What's the worst he can do?"

A wide smile spread across his face. "That's more like it," he teased, kissing her gently. "Oh yeah, we got an owl from Harry and Ginny today; it's Teddy's fourth birthday on Saturday and they want us round there for a little party."

"Sounds good," Hermione replied, smiling. "We could get him one of those mini broomsticks from Gina's shop. I wonder what colour his hair will be this time..."

* * *

Thank you. Just a simple thank you. No gushing, no fawning, no sugary compliments - just a warm, sincere thank you. Well halle-bloody-lujah; someone, at least, had some respect for his privacy and wishes and didn't think it necessary to stick their nose into his business.

Unlike the woman now stepping through his fireplace.

"How many times must I tell you to leave me alone, Minerva?" he asked wearily, not bothering to get up off the sofa. He was beginning to experience a very bad case of déjà vu.

"Once more, as always," she replied lightly in her distinctive Scottish accent. "And how many times must I force my way through your fireplace because you won't answer my letters?"

"Thousands – apparently," he replied dryly. "Though no-one is forcing you to."

Giving him a disapproving look, Minerva brushed herself off and glanced around the flat. "It's your birthday in a few days, Severus, and you haven't even put your cards up. Not even mine!"

"Oh dear," he drawled, his face expressionless. "I can just imagine the intense hurt I have caused you."

"Actually, yes, it is hurtful, Severus," she admonished, placing her hands on her hips as the familiar stern look settled onto her face. "Filius, Hagrid, Pomona, Sybil and I all sent cards to you this year, yet it seems you've thrown all of them in the bin without even opening them."

Merlin's beard, she wasn't reading his mind, was she? Severus checked his Occlumency guards, but they were firmly in place, just as always. Old habits die hard. "Minerva, I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation as to why you can't see the cards, and that is because I have not received them," he lied. "Filius probably couldn't reach to hand it to his owl, Hagrid's probably got eaten by whatever ghastly animal he's keeping as a pet at the moment, Pomona most likely accidentally fed it to a plant and as for Sybil...well surely she would have foreseen that I didn't want any birthday cards, and so she won't have sent hers after all."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Minerva took on an expression that was scarily similar to Molly Weasley's when she was telling off one of her massive dunderheaded brood. "Severus, I'm glad you find the situation so humorous, but I, do not. There's absolutely no need to shut yourself away like this – we're all trying to contact you, to be your friends, yet you throw our letters and cards into the bin as though they contain poison!"

He raised an eyebrow. "For all I know, yours do."

The fierce Scottish woman ignored his comment and merely scowled at him. "Severus, all I'm saying is that you should get out once in a while, stop shutting yourself away! There's no reason for you to do that. Look, come up to Hogwarts for a few days – we could have a birthday party for you, small, of course, and you could just catch up with us all, show your face a little. Let everyone know that you haven't just died in a hole somewhere."

Severus raised the other eyebrow too. "First thing, Minerva, there is a reason for shutting myself away and that is that I want to. Simple as that. Last time I checked, it was a free country – I spent eighteen years trying to make it so. Secondly, I do 'get out once in a while' as you put it and finally, I have no desire whatsoever to set foot in that castle ever again. I hate parties, as you well know." He paused, frowning slightly. "Oh, and if I had died in a hole, I doubt many of you would care. Let them believe that – it makes it easier for me, at any rate."

"Severus!" Minerva exclaimed, anger rising in her chest. "Am I getting through to you at all? Can you not go one single minute without making a sarcastic remark?"

"No, actually," he replied with a smirk. He was almost, _almost_, enjoying this.

"No, I'm not getting through to you, or no, you can't go one single minute without making a sarcastic remark?"

"Both," he told her neutrally, his eyes darting to the paper bag that still held his new books. When was the infernal woman going to leave so he could have a moment's peace to read one of them?

Letting out an aggravated sigh, Minerva turned and made a clicking noise with her tongue. "Fine," she said disapprovingly. "I'll leave you here to wallow in your loneliness, and I will get back to the land of the living."

"That place?" Severus snorted. "Land of the living? Minerva, most of them are all about to drop, let's face it. Some of them are already dead even, if you consider Professor Binns."

She simply huffed again and turned towards the fireplace. "Good bye, Severus."

"Good bye, Minerva," he said pleasantly as she stepped into the green flames. "Oh, and I am not wallowing in loneliness!" he shouted, but she was already gone.

Well at least now he could start on one of his new books and maybe, just maybe, Minerva wouldn't come back. Ever. What a relief that would be. With a sigh, he sat down on the sofa and reached for the paper bag. But before he could even take them out, let alone start reading one of them, an owl landed on his windowsill.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Severus muttered as he got up and crossed over to the window. If it was Minerva sending him a howler, or worse, a written invitation to Hogwarts, he was going to curse the woman into the next century. He opened the window and the brown tawny old hopped in, bringing with it a strong gust of icy wind that chilled Severus to the core. Quickly shutting the window, he took the roll of parchment from the owl's foot and unravelled it.

_Dear Mister S. Snape,_

_I am writing to inform you that tests are now underway on your latest development – the Recro Memoria Potion. Providing that all goes well, the potion will be available for use at St. Mungo's by the 31__st__ of January. This is also the date on which St. Mungo's wish to let the public know of your remarkable achievement. _

_They have requested that successful newspaper _The Phoenix_ be the first to release the news, giving them the chance to deliver the information fairly and to grant you the credit you deserve. Therefore, Hestia Jones and her team have been informed of the development and have signed secrecy forms. This enables them to plan, prepare and put together an in-depth report, ready to release on the 31__st__. _

_Congratulations again on your fantastic achievement; I would like to thank you on behalf of everyone in the department and at St. Mungo's for your hard work and dedication. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Jacinta Harper – Head of the Department for Medicinal Potions Research._

After reading the letter and tossing it in the bin, there was one thing that worried Severus. Worried him quite a bit, actually, and that was the phrase 'in-depth report'. An in-depth report? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Surely they weren't going to write about all the technical workings of the potion – the science behind the effects, were they? No-one cared about that sort of detail anymore.

He let out a groan and hung his head, allowing it to hit the back of the sofa. Knowing Hestia Jones and her determination to 'always have the important details' and Granger's pushy, know-it-all ways, they would. They bloody would.

Well, as long as they didn't bother him personally, then fine. They could write what they liked for all he cared.

* * *

Scott's Sports Supplies was easily tied with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for the busiest and most popular shop in Diagon Alley. Every day, floods of people, young and old, crammed into the store to peer at and buy broomsticks, Quidditch balls, various team regalia and even Muggle sports equipment.

As Hermione forced her way through the sea of excitable, chattering people, she spotted Gina behind the counter. Gina Scott ran the shop with her older brother and she was, more importantly, Ron's long-term girlfriend. He and Hermione had simply left it too late for anything significant to happen between them – she had felt like she was kissing her brother, and they had both decided that it wasn't working out between them.

"Hi, Hermione," Gina greeted as she handed over some change to a customer. "Looking for anything?"

"Yeah," she said, looking around, "I wanted to get one of those mini broomsticks for Teddy's birthday but with all these people, I can't see them."

Laughing, Gina nodded and beckoned to her brother to cover the till for her. "I'll go get one for you. We're absolutely rushed off our feet and Ron can't help, what with training for the Cannons' next season and all. I don't think he understands that they're just going to lose again, bless him. He keeps getting all excited, it's like keeping a small child, I'm telling you!"

Hermione chuckled, thinking of how Ron was ever optimistic in his goal of dragging the Chudley Cannons kicking and screaming to the top of the league table. It was never going to happen. It was about as likely as her marrying Snape. "Thanks," she replied as Gina pushed back her loose blonde hair.

"Here they are," she said, pulling one out and handing it to her. "That'll be twenty galleons – you can just give the money to me if you like. The queue at the till is ridiculous."

Nodding, Hermione took it from her and placed it into her handbag, which had been magically enhanced to hold items bigger than its size. "Thanks, here you go."

"No problem. See you Saturday!"

"Yep," she replied, smiling at the pretty blonde who looked oddly out of place in the sports shop. "See you then."

Hermione left the shop feeling a little awkward; she never felt completely at ease after a conversation with Gina. It wasn't that she didn't like her – she was a great person, and it wasn't that she was jealous. That ship had sailed long ago. But it was just...weird. She didn't want Ron back, not in that way at all, but she couldn't ever help but think 'this is the girl Ron replaced me with'. She was blonde, beautiful, in to sports and had a cheerful smile for everyone – almost the direct opposite of herself, really. It always got Hermione thinking, why had Ron ever wanted her in the first place? She was quite obviously not his type, he must have realised that they didn't fit together at all before they even started going out, surely?

Hermione frowned as she turned down the street that led to her and Carl's flat. Why had Ron fancied her? It didn't make sense, really. It was nothing suspicious, she trusted Ron too much for that; it just made her feel...awkward. Sometimes, just sometimes, if she was in a really foul and depressive mood, she wondered if it had all just been him, trying to do what the press and public expected.

After the war, the whole country had been cooing over the idea of her and Ron being together, and Harry and Ginny. In Harry's case, it had worked out. In hers, not so much. Sometimes, she just thought that Ron had been trying to do what everyone else expected him to do and hadn't wanted her in any way at all. Merlin knew Molly had been overjoyed when they started going out. But that was only when she was angry at the world for some random reason or another – Ron wouldn't be that dishonest, would he?

* * *

_**I hope that was okay – There was quite a bit of back-story explained there, I hope it didn't get too boring! Thanks for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	5. Friendly Generosity

_**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Here's the next chapter, please keep the feedback coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, JK does.**_

_**Chapter 5 – Friendly Generosity**_

* * *

"Good morning, mister Snape," Mrs Hartington greeted, though sounding a little more cheerful than usual, Severus noted. "Back so soon?"

Turning to look at her properly, Severus studied her wrinkled face, the motherly glint in her eyes and the completely innocent, inquisitive expression that she wore. "Is that a problem?" he asked, though not, for once, unkindly.

"Oh no, my dear," she said with a smile. "It's just that you won't usually come in again for a few weeks. There isn't anything wrong with the two you bought last time, is there?"

He frowned slightly. "No, why would there be?" Normally, that would have come out as a sneer but for some reason, Severus found it impossible to sneer at the kindly old woman behind the counter. "Actually," he said, stepping forwards. "I was wondering if you could help me."

"Help you?" Her eyes seemed to brighten at the prospect. "Well certainly, my dear. What with?"

Taking another step forwards so that he was stood directly in front of the counter, Severus puzzled slightly over the repeat of 'my dear' but again, ignored it for the time being. It didn't sound patronising, unlike when the meddling old fool used to insist on calling him 'my dear boy'. No, this sounded normal, somehow. Natural, for the old shop owner to call him that.

"I'm looking for a particular book, quite rare...I'm not sure you'll have it, but perhaps you could point me in the right direction."

Her eyes brightened again. "You never know, I might surprise you. What are you looking for exactly?"

Five minutes later and Severus was being led by a chattering Mrs Hartington through to a back room of the shop. The shelves there were laden with an assortment of books – many discoloured, with yellowing pages and fading titles – and most of them had gathered a fine layer of dust over the years. And the _smell_ – well that was even better than in the main shop.

As Severus' gaze began to slide over the array of titles, Henrietta walked around, a slight limp in her left leg, her keen eyes looking for the book Severus had mentioned. "I've accumulated all these over the years," she told him, running a hand fondly across one of the wooden shelves. "I was quite the enthusiastic collector in my time, always looking for a new book, trying to find out some ancient or rare knowledge. I keep them back here now and read some from time to time..." she trailed off with a soft smile on her face.

She was talking much more than he was accustomed to but again, Severus found himself not minding so much. In fact, he would go so far as to say that he was interested. Yes, he could quite picture a younger Mrs Hartington scouring some ancient corner of the world for a book, a fierce determination settled in those bright eyes.

"Ah, here we are," she finally said, beckoning to him with a crooked finger. She could never get them straight these days, for some reason. Her daughter's husband, a Muggle – Chris – had mentioned something to her once. Rheuma-whatsit...she couldn't quite remember. A funny word, anyway. He had said about pills you could take; maybe she should talk to a Healer about it. See if there was a potion – not pills, they were for Muggles.

A satisfied smile spread across her weathered face as she carefully removed the book from its place on the shelf. "Is this what you wanted?"

Looking at the book in her hands with a revered silence, Severus nodded. "Yes, where did you...?"

She smiled again. "I found it in a Wand-maker's workshop thirty years ago, in a crowded suburb of Barcelona. He insisted he had no use for it, so I took it. Lovely man..."

Gently, with the same care in which a priest raises the bible and a peasant treasures his last piece of bread, Severus took the book from her. "I'm experimenting with a theory of cauldrons that could offer certain benefits to particular types of potions, and this...this is perfect."

"Well take it then," she told him happily, pushing it further into his grip. "Take it."

"Thank you," he replied, looking up at her. "How much?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, my dear!" she exclaimed, patting his hands. "I don't need it anymore, you have it."

He began shaking his head, simply shocked at the fact that this woman, who he barely knew, was willing to give him such a book. For nothing. A small, ever prominent part of him told him that she must have some kind of ulterior motive, but another part of him – the real, finally free Severus – said that this was just _her_, being kind. But why him? "I can't possibly accept this."

"Yes you can," she told him firmly with a small frown. "And you will. Go on, have it. Trust me; I'm not going to be needing it."

"But it's worth-"

The protest died on his tongue as she held a hand up, her face looking stern for the first time. "I don't care what its worth. I have loads here; if I ever want to sell them, I'll have enough. If it's useful and you need the information, take it."

Letting out a small sigh, Severus realised that in this situation, it was better to not look a gift horse in the mouth. This woman was not dangerous; the war had been over for many years. She was simply trying to give him something, being kind to him. And kindness wasn't something he often received; not genuinely, anyway. He looked up at her gratefully. "Thank you."

A smile softened her face as she handed him a paper bag and slipped the book into it. "You're more than welcome, my dear. I hope it helps, and if you need to have a look at anything else, just ask."

* * *

Yawning and bleary eyed, Hermione slowly made her way through to the kitchen and glanced at the clock. She had been up most of the night reading through some early test results on the potion that the Ministry had sent her and making notes accordingly for the article. Thank God it was Saturday, was all she could think. Carl would be back soon from his early morning shift at the hospital and then maybe they could do something together, before Teddy's party that afternoon.

So as she flicked her wand towards the kettle to start it boiling, it was with a small groan that she noticed a familiar owl sat on the window ledge outside, waiting patiently to be let in. Why on earth was Hestia sending her letters on Saturday morning? It was her day off.

_Dear Hermione,_

_You can tell from the 'dear' part that I'm trying to butter you up – I usually just put Hermione. Anyway, you're not going to like this, but I need you to try talking to Snape either today or tomorrow. I want us to have some sort of picture of what content we'll have by Monday morning, so please, please, please, for me, just try and arrange some sort of interview with him? Knowing him from old, he'll probably refuse at the first off, but that's why I want you to do this. If anyone can persuade someone to do something they don't want to do, it's you. _

_Love, your overly kind friend, _

_Hestia. xx _

Hermione sighed as she watched her plans for a relaxed weekend fly out of the window. Picking up a quill, she turned the parchment over and scribbled a note back.

_Hestia,_

_Well, actually, if anyone should have an award for being able to persuade people to do things they don't want to do, it's you. But anyway, yes, I'll try. I'm not making any promises though, like I said. See you on Monday. _

_Love, _

_Hermione. xx_

_P.S – Oh yes, you're the kindest person I know, granting me the wonderful task of interviewing Severus Snape. I simply can't wait. _

Half an hour later, she got another reply back, the words on the scrap of parchment absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

_That's the attitude, Hermione! And you're welcome, I know I'm lovely._

_xx_

* * *

"So, anything you want to do today?" Carl asked as the tea towel began to dry up the breakfast dishes of its own accord.

Shrugging, Hermione brushed the hair out of her eyes and sighed. "Well at some point this weekend, I have to go and try to arrange an interview with Snape. Oh joy."

He chuckled. "I'm guessing you'll want to rush to do that first thing, then."

Hermione scowled at him and threw the dishcloth his way, which missed, of course. She'd always had terrible aim. "Well, I either get it over and done with, or put it off till tomorrow. The latter sounds more appealing, to be honest. I don't want to be in a bad mood for Teddy's party."

"Fine," Carl replied, picking up the dishcloth and flinging it back to the sink. "Well how about we go to Diagon Alley today – you can look around that bookshop you like, and I can see if I can get some rat tonic for Mum and Dad."

Hermione laughed and nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Is the rat still ill then?"

He nodded, a grimace clear on his face. "I don't know why they don't just get rid of it; he's not exactly your average house pet. I don't know how many times I've told Mum just to get a cat or something."

Still laughing quietly, Hermione opened the fridge to replace the orange juice and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm going to go get dressed."

"Oh," he said, looking disappointed. "I was beginning to like this." He gestured to the oversized T-shirt she had thrown on to sit at her desk in, reading and writing notes.

"This?" Hermione asked with a slight frown, glancing down at it. "What's to like about it?"

Giving her one of his cheeky grins, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his nose in her hair. "It comes off easily..." he murmured, tickling her sides with the tips of his fingers.

Letting out a sharp shriek of laughter, Hermione leapt away from him, grinning. "You should get punished for that," she warned, leaning back on the sofa.

He laughed and held his hands up in sacrifice. "Sorry, that was out of order," he replied, slightly sarcastic as Hermione giggled. He walked towards her, holding her close again. "You love me really," he said quietly, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

"Yes," Hermione replied with a sigh, twisting around to look at him. "Anyway, come on, let's get up and then we can go down to Diagon Alley. I need some more books."

Carl laughed again. She always needed more books.

* * *

"Hermione, my dear!" Henrietta said cheerfully, smiling widely as Hermione immediately made her way over to the counter. Carl had stopped to look in Scott's Sports Supplies, so she had taken the time to look around her favourite bookstore. It was so much more peaceful than Flourish and Blotts, more traditional.

"I was wondering when you'd be back again," she said, eyes twinkling.

Hermione smiled widely. "Sorry, I've been busy with work, but I've run low on reading material, so here I am!"

Giving a hearty chuckle, Henrietta nodded at the young woman and shuffled her way out from behind the wooden counter. "Well I knew you'd be back soon enough, dear, what with your reading habits. There aren't many people who can devour a book quite as fast as you can, yet still retain every drop of information."

Laughing, Hermione nodded and held out her arm to help the old lady. "How's your back pain? I know you said that you had started using the improved pain relief potion. Is it helping?"

"Oh yes, dear," she replied with a smile as she reached the bookcase she had been aiming towards. "It's much improved; Mister Snape is quite the genius, really."

"Yes," Hermione said simply, nodding. "He is."

"Yes, anyway, dear. I found this one the other day, and thought you might like to read it." She pointed to a faded hardback, nestled in between two newer books. "You better take it out; I can't reach that high these days."

Hermione reached for the book and took it down, smiling at Henrietta. She knew the elderly shop owner well, after months of frequently visiting the store and conversing with her over various matters from books, to what was in the news.

"There we go, my dear, I thought that might make some different reading for you. I know you mentioned you studied Ancient Runes at school."

"Yes," Hermione said with an enthusiastic smile as she nodded and briefly paged through the book. "This is fantastic, thank you."

"You're welcome, my dear, as always. Now where's that handsome young man of yours?"

* * *

_**Well, that's all for now! Thank you for reading and please leave a review!**_

_**X =D**_


	6. A Frustrating Encounter

_**Hi, thank you as always for your reviews, it really means a lot to me! Also, a special thank you to Moewe - thank you so much for all your lovely reviews both for this story and The Choices We Made. I'm glad you're enjoying my writing and thanks for taking the time to review! **_

_**Right, without further ado, on with the next chapter! **_

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_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. :(**_

_**Chapter 6 – A Frustrating Encounter**_

* * *

It was a perfectly ordinary door. Sitting at the top of a short flight of white stone steps and beneath the typical London porch, the ebony black door, with its silver knocker and letterbox, mirrored all the others in the street. So why did it look so imposing?

As she approached the door to the upmarket London townhouse, Hermione wanted nothing more than to turn and flee – away from that towering door and away from the house's inhabitant. But she didn't. Instead, she shook her head, told herself she was being ridiculous and used the heavy silver handle to knock on the door. Feeling her stomach knot into a bundle of nerves, Hermione hoped for a moment that he wouldn't be in – but she was being a coward, and she knew it. She had nothing to fear from Severus Snape anymore.

* * *

Who the hell was that knocking on his door on a Sunday morning? If it was Minerva again, he swore to Merlin he –

What?

He had removed the latch and opened the door to reveal none other than Hermione Granger. Really, was there someone 'up there' messing around with his life purely for their own entertainment? Looking at her, Severus took in the dark jeans, black heeled boots and deep red trench coat she was wearing, before lifting his eyes to her face.

Pretty – he couldn't deny it. But he ignored that in favour of the strange look in the depths of her hazel eyes. Hesitation, perhaps, but masked with a daring sort of confidence that only a Gryffindor could possess.

"Professor Snape," she finally said after a few moments of tense silence. Awkwardly, she extended her hand. "I've come about an interview for –" But that was as far as she got.

"Miss Granger, I have already gathered what you are here for; I am known to be observant," he told her dryly, his face expressionless. "And also, I don't need to shake your hand, silly girl. I already know you...unfortunately."

Hermione paused, glanced at her own hand and then dropped it. "Well, I was wondering –"

Again, she was cut off. "I'm sorry, did I mention that the answer was no?"

Her mouth clamped shut as she looked at him incredulously for a second. Then, she straightened up and gave him a defiant stare. "No, you didn't. But if you'd just give me a chance to –"

"The answer is still no, Miss Granger," he said, keeping his dark eyes fixed on her face.

"Could you stop cutting me off while I'm trying to speak?" Hermione snapped, trying to stop herself from completely losing her temper with him. "Can't you just listen to what I have to say, Professor?"

The corner of Severus' lips quirked upwards ever so slightly as she began to get frustrated. Her pale cheeks were beginning to take on a not-unattractive pink tinge, and an errant curl had fallen forwards from where she had pulled her hair into a ponytail. Not bushy anymore then, curly.

"No, I will not listen to what you have to say, Miss Granger. Not when you speak to me in that tone. And there's no need to call me 'professor' anymore; last time I checked I was a freelance potions developer." He ended with a smirk as she let out an irritated huff of breath.

"Well if you're not my professor anymore, then it's not up to you what tone of voice I use," she shot back, though keeping her voice calm. "Now if you could stop being so hostile, maybe we could discuss what I came here about like adults."

He paused, amazed that she hadn't lost her temper yet. He wondered what it would take for her to get completely flustered and just snap. "I have no interest in my words being splattered across the pages of a newspaper, Miss Granger. End of discussion."

Sighing again, Hermione brushed the escaped curl behind her ear. "Do you have to be so uncooperative?" she asked. "I'm just doing my job, or at least I'm trying to."

The familiar smirk crossed his face again. "Trying to do your job? Yes, Miss Granger, that sounds like you – always aiming to please." She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her again. "You used to remind me of an eager puppy at the pound, desperately jumping up and down whenever a buyer came in, longing to be picked."

"I am not like a puppy!" Hermione protested loudly as her cheeks grew a little pinker. "Listen, Snape, if you think you can still intimidate me and make fun of me then you're wrong. I never did anything to you to deserve that, not directly or on purpose anyway, and if you're going to sabotage the paper's article because of your ridiculous prejudices, then fine. At least we'll know who the childish one is here. You're a bastard, you know that, Snape?"

He stared at her for a moment before reaching for the door. "Well now you're definitely not going to get an interview. Good day, Miss Granger." With that, he closed the door.

"Ugh!" Hermione let out a cry of frustration. How could someone so intelligent and respectable be so calmly irritating? "Fine!" she called out, knowing he could still hear her. "I guess you'd prefer Rita Skeeter to come around, waving her quick-quotes quill in your face!" After that, she left.

* * *

"How did it go?" Hestia asked as soon as Hermione got into the office the next morning.

The glare she was met with told her everything. "I hate you," she said seriously, dumping her bag onto her desk.

"Ouch."

Sighing, Hermione turned to look at her and offered a soft smile. "Sorry, you know I didn't mean that. He was just...ugh!" She shuddered, shaking her head. "He was impossible. I tried to be polite and ask if we could discuss it all like adults, but he just kept cutting me off! Then he moved onto making fun of me and how I used to be at school, saying that I was forever aiming to please and that I shouldn't talk to him in that tone. Even though he'd just said that I had no right to call him 'professor' anymore and that he wasn't a teacher, yet he still treated me like a naughty schoolgirl!"

"Okay, okay," Hestia said gently, holding a hand up. "Sorry, I know. Severus can be difficult at the best of times; Merlin knows I've witnessed it first hand, what with the Order and everything. But don't worry, if you keep trying, he'll give in eventually."

Hermione eyes popped wide open as she gaped at her friend. "You are having a joke, aren't you? I'm not going back there to be ridiculed again. Why can't you do it? He probably respects you more, you worked together after all."

Hestia sighed and shook her head. "I doubt it, Hermione. I really doubt it. You're much more persuasive, more stubborn. He'll give in, trust me."

A huff of annoyance rang through the office as Hermione crossed her arms and leant back against the desk. "It's just unpleasant, Hestia, you weren't there. He's literally impossible to talk to!"

A sympathetic smile spread across Hestia's face as she sighed again. "I know, Hermione. But please, you really are the best for the job; you don't know your own strengths sometimes. He isn't as much of a bastard as he makes out, but he shouldn't have said all those things."

"Fine," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'll try again sometime this week, but I'm not trying again after all. Okay?"

Hestia's smile turned into a beaming grin. "Thank you," she said, hugging her. "You're a saint, you really are. And I promise, if it doesn't work second time around, then I'll have a go."

* * *

It was really annoying him now. Every time he tried to distract himself, she always came right back into his head again. The image of her stood there, with that frustratingly attractive blush on her cheeks, and a defiant look in her eyes, standing up to him, kept playing through his mind. No-one, apart from Minerva of course, had ever actually stood up to him. Had never stood up straight and said no, they didn't want him to talk to them like that. And, in the pit of his stomach, Severus felt something that irritated and confused him greatly – a growing respect for the foolishly stubborn, but daring, young woman who had stood on his doorstep the previous morning, desperately trying to control her temper.

Sighing, Severus stood up and deposited his Firewhiskey tumbler on the side of his drinks cabinet and turned to look at the small pile of envelopes that were staring at him from the windowsill, taunting him with their contents. It was his birthday – what a joy. In one swift movement, he had swept up the pile, noticed that all of them had Hogwarts stamps on the back, and flung them in the bin again. No doubt Minerva had persuaded them all to send another card, just to make sure he got the message that she was never going to give in. However, there was one on the top of the pile that bore handwriting that he recognised, but couldn't quite place.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened it up and took out the small slip of paper from within.

_Uncalled for, Snape. You didn't have to be that rude to her; she was only trying to do what I had asked her to do. She wasn't asking for your deepest, darkest secrets. I know you can be polite when you want to. _

_Hestia._

Hestia. Hestia Jones – the Auror. Oh yes, he remembered her. Always wanted to know all of the facts, all of the details, before the Order carried out any kind of operation; it wasn't unwise, just frustrating at times. So she had sent Granger running, well, he couldn't deny that he had suspected it. She wouldn't have volunteered to come under her own volition.

Sighing, Severus had to admit that maybe he had been overly harsh. But it still didn't change the fact that he didn't want someone, and most certainly not Hermione Granger, prying about, asking questions, yearning to know all of the facts. Yes, scare them off – that was the easiest way to make them avoid him. She wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

* * *

"Carl!" Hermione called from the kitchen as she pushed the oven door closed.

"Yes?" he asked, appearing in the doorway from where he had just been changing out of his Healer's robes.

"I've put the lasagne in the oven, I just need to go out to get some milk because we've run out and you'll want some for your cereal in the morning, won't you?"

"Yeah. It's alright, I can go if you like," he said, approaching her to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

"No, I'll go; I need some fresh air anyway," she told him as she grabbed her cloak from the hook. "Just keep an eye on the dinner for me, I'll be back soon."

* * *

_**Thank you for reading; I hope that wasn't too disappointing, what with them not exactly hitting it off straight away! Please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	7. Aiding the Injured

_**As always, thank you so much for all your encouraging feedback! I hope you like this next chapter and thanks for reading so far!**_

**_P.S - A quick thank you to TheFatalIllusion for being so awesome and reading a part of this through for me!_**

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm not making money from this story. Which is a shame, because it'd be useful!**_

_**Chapter 7 – Aiding the Injured**_

* * *

The night air was bitterly cold as Hermione pulled on some gloves and tucked her chin into the warmth of her black scarf. The dimly lit streets of Muggle London were empty, apart from the occasional night-time wanderer – usually with a can of lager or burning cigarette in their hand. There were no late-night corner shops to be heard of in the Wizarding area of the capital that Hermione lived in, and so she walked the few streets away to find the familiar neon lights of the local late-night newsagents.

The spotted youth behind the counter gave her an approving look as he handed her the change and placed the two-litre bottle of milk into a plastic bag. But apart from that, Hermione encountered no-one on the chilly January night. Everyone else, it seemed, had seen fit to remain indoors.

Walking back down Diagon Alley and feeling comforted by the familiar darkened window displays running along either side of her, Hermione listened to the click of her heels on the cobbles and the creak of the shop signs as the breeze pushed them back and forth. There was always something about night-time that Hermione found soothing, a peaceful quiet that just allowed for the cogs of her mind to gently turn. After everything she had faced and endured during the war, the dark was hardly something to be feared. There were much scarier, much more harmful things in the world than the dark.

It was then that she heard it - a rasping, wheezing cry of pain echoing from down one of the pitch black alleyways to the side of her. There was a series of short, sharp gasps before whoever it was cried again, the groan scratchy and raw.

"Hello?" Hermione called out as she cautiously stepped into the alleyway, her eyes straining through the darkness. Pulling out her wand, she flicked it in the air and murmured "Lumos." The alleyway was instantly swathed with white, luminescent light and she could now see where the pained cries were coming from.

* * *

Letting out an impatient sigh, Severus decided that he'd had enough. He was forty. Forty. Not that there was anything wrong with that particularly, it was just one year older. It wasn't like he'd suddenly started sprouting grey hairs and forgetting where he'd left his keys. It wasn't even old really, considering the extended lifetime of Wizards and Witches.

No, what really bothered him was the fact that he had hardly done anything worthwhile in his whole forty years of life. Oh he had done things that proved to be worthwhile for other people, but not for himself. He'd never visited a foreign country, just for the sake of interest. He'd never really had a day off just to relax, until lately. In fact, he could count on one hand the times he had really and truly _enjoyed_ himself. And they had all happened before he turned twenty. Basically, the way he saw it, most of his life so far had been a long, drudging existence. Not a life – an existence. There was a difference.

So, in order to clear his head, or to ease the morose direction of his thoughts, Severus decided to do what he always did in these situations. Take a walk.

* * *

There was a slight breeze as he walked the dark streets, heading towards the Wizarding Area of London where he wouldn't be so conspicuous in his black cloak. Not that there was anybody about. The area in which he lived in was practically devoid of drunks or such people, and the nearest tube station was quite a few streets away, so there was no danger of really being seen by any late-night travellers. He wondered briefly how Wizards in New York coped – the city that never sleeps. They surely would never be able to go out in robes, but then in such a bustling city, maybe they were largely overlooked.

Soon though, Severus found himself wandering down a street alongside Diagon Alley, connected to it by a series of narrow alleyways that held nothing but pitch blackness in between their brick walls. The cold night air did something to soothe his agitation, and Severus soon found himself dwelling less on the past, and more on the future. He thought about his most recent breakthrough, and smirked slightly. Maybe this would be the thing to convince those few doubters still left out there that the Ministry and St. Mungo's were right to trust him. Not that he particularly cared what people thought of him, but he still had his pride and he didn't take kindly to being accused of practicing the Dark Arts and tricking the Ministry.

It was then, as the night breeze fluttered around his cloak and bit slightly at his skin, that Severus heard it. Slightly muffled, pained cries, echoing from an alleyway up ahead. An almost pearlescent light seemed to be faintly spilling from the mouth of the dark passage and it was with a frown of curiosity on his face that he stepped into the alley.

Widening his eyes slightly at the sight before him, Severus moved slowly and silently forwards. How typical. It was none other than the very same woman who had turned up on his doorstep just the day before, with that infuriatingly attractive blush on her cheeks and asking for an interview. However this time, her skin appeared a ghostly pale in the light pouring from the tip of her wand as she hunched over a figure that he could not yet identify. What was she doing out here at this time of night, anyway?

As he silently edged forwards some more, Severus was surprised, and also, concerned, to see that the figure Miss Granger was crouching so attentively over was Henrietta Hartington. Her face was screwed up in pain, and the pained whimpers were still escaping her wizened lips, but it was definitely her.

"What has happened?"

The Granger girl jumped, her eyes wide and face startled as she turned to look at him. "Professor Snape," she gasped, calming down slightly. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"My house, if you must know, Miss Granger," he replied dryly before turning his attention to the old shop owner. "Are you hurt, Mrs Hartington?"

She nodded, wincing in pain as she did so. "I left my house keys in the shop, but didn't realise until I had made it home, dear. So I came back for them and was just leaving when I tripped and fell down this alleyway. My hip –"

Severus nodded and quickly lowered himself down into a dignified crouching position. "Where does it hurt, exactly?"

"All from my hip, down to my thighbone. Hermione found me and was just casting some diagnosis spells when you arrived, my dear." Her face screwed up in pain again as she clutched at the top of her leg. "I'm sure it's nothing, just some rest –"

"No," Hermione cut in, flicking her wand so that tight bandages wrapped themselves around the elderly woman's upper leg. "We'll need to get you to St. Mungo's."

For a moment, Severus said nothing as a small frown formed on his face. Mrs Hartington had called her Hermione...and spoke as if she knew her. Surely, Miss Granger didn't use the same bookstore as him? Though, it would be annoyingly in character for her to do so.

"You know Miss Granger?" he asked eventually as Hermione conjured a stretcher and ignored Henrietta's insistences that she'd be fine.

Henrietta nodded, a small smile making it's onto her pained face. "She comes into the store often, though not for as long as you have, my dear." Turning to look at Hermione, she tried to reach out a hand. "Please, I'm sure St. Mungo's won't be necessary. I hate hospitals, dear. It just needs resting, and some pain relief potion."

Hermione shook her head, her expression strangely familiar to Severus. He had seen that look on her face all too many times whilst she was at school. Determination. And Merlin help everyone once Hermione Granger was determined to do something. "Mrs Hartington, you need expert medical attention. My first aid is limited, now please, I can apparate us both in no time."

A look of sheer reluctance passed over Henrietta's face and Severus held a hand up. "That," he said, "Won't be necessary. You may only know your basic first aid, Miss Granger, but my knowledge however extends much further than that." He turned to look at the kind, elderly woman still slumped on the floor. "If you would consent to my apparating us both to my house, I can see that you get the medical attention you need."

She wasted no time in agreeing as Severus helped her on to the stretcher and Hermione looked on with a frown. "Professor, there is a chance it's severely broken –"

He looked up at her sharply. "Are you questioning my abilities, Miss Granger?"

"No, I'm just –"

"Good," he interrupted, placing his wand back into the pocket of his frock coat. "Then it's decided. I suggest you go home, Miss Granger." And with that, both he and Henrietta vanished.

Hermione stared at the dark spot where they had both been just seconds before. "Not over my dead body," she muttered angrily, annoyed at how he had managed to cut her off and undermine her again. Wasting no time, she followed them in apparating to the London townhouse. She had been the one to first find the injured Mrs Hartington, and she was dealing with it perfectly well thank you very much, before he showed up. Not that she was going to get in an argument with him about it; she had long since known that there was no point in arguing over anything with Severus Snape.

* * *

"What on earth are you doing here, Miss Granger?" Severus asked dryly as he levitated the stretcher though his front door. "I thought I told you to go home."

"Actually sir, you suggested it. I decided that I'd better come along and see that Mrs Hartington is alright," Hermione said, a forced expression of calm spread across her face.

"Don't you trust me, Miss Granger?" he replied with a raised eyebrow, his voice cold.

"Yes, I do actually. But Mrs Hartington has been very kind to me and I would like to help." She swallowed, looking up at him. "If that's okay with you?"

There was a pause – a moment of tense silence as he looked at her, taking in the calm expression in her eyes, contrasted against the straight set of her lips. "If you must," he said eventually, standing back to admit her in.

"Thank you." She slipped in, trying to be as noiseless as possible.

Without a word, Severus, with the stretcher levitating before him, led her down some steps into a large basement that obviously served as a Potion's Lab. The walls were lined with bookshelves and Potion cabinets, along with cupboards stacked with ingredients and hooks from where Cauldrons and measuring equipment hung.

Hermione watched on silently as Severus began to line up a variety of potions on the table before him, before taking the corks out of some, and mixing them with the others. She frowned a little, trying to piece it together in her head. So he used Mrs Hartington's store too, she had heard her say when he asked. Yet, she still puzzled slightly over how she called him 'my dear', just the same as she did her. Why would anyone want to call Severus Snape 'dear'? She shook her head, wanting to laugh slightly.

"Are you going to help, Miss Granger, or are you going to stand there like a confounded dunderhead?"

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Hermione stepped forward to where his back was turned away from her. "No, sorry. What would you like me to do?"

"Fetch me the Strengthening Potion," he ordered without turning around, leaving her to guess where it was.

She quickly made her way over to a shelf full of what looked like your usual everyday use potions and sure enough, sat behind a vial of Sleeping Draft, there was a small bottle containing what looked definitely to her like the Strengthening Potion.

"Here you go," she said, placing it down next to him. He glanced at it briefly, and then gave a curt nod.

"That's fine, Miss Granger. I need to administer these now, and then she will have to sleep to let the bone repair."

Nodding, Hermione stepped back as she watched him measure out the different potions with expert precision, his long slender fingers holding the vials delicately, as if they might explode at being handled too roughly. Every now and then, he would ask her to hand him something, or fetch a certain piece of equipment, before he fell back into silence again. It was interesting, fascinating, almost, to watch him work. The grace with which he moved around the lab, the reverent silence that his work seemed to command...she was held almost in a trance, before he finally put the last of his equipment away and turned to face her.

"She will need to sleep now for a few hours, but after that she will be fine." He paused, looking at her in a way that made her feel ever so slightly self-conscious – as though he was carefully analysing every inch of her body. "And...Thank you, for your help."

That last part stunned her, and she very almost allowed her eyes to widen. But instead, she merely said, "You're welcome," and glanced towards the sleeping woman.

They stood like that in silence for a moment as Severus puzzled over the last twenty minutes. She was, annoyingly, the perfect lab partner in every way. Silent, unquestioning, quick and diligent. She had done everything he asked, without asking why, or where something was – even though she had never before been into his lab. He inwardly shook his head and told himself he was being ridiculous; the only reason she had been so efficient was because she cared about Mrs Hartington. No other reason whatsoever.

"Was there anything else you wanted, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice still quite cold as he looked pointedly towards the door.

Hermione stared at him for a split second, her heart thudding in her chest as she wondered whether she was daring enough. "Well actually, yes," she said, surprised at her own courage. "I want to know why you so rudely refused me an interview yesterday."

'Shit,' she inwardly muttered. That was it. She had done it now.

* * *

_**Well, I hope that was okay and thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I'll update soon!**_

_**X =D**_


	8. Suspicious Mind

_**Hi, well first of all I'd love to say a massive thank you for all your reviews; it's great to hear from you all! Here's the next chapter, sorry about the delay due to my holidays and please keep the feedback coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just playing with the characters!**_

_**Chapter 8 – Suspicious Mind**_

* * *

With a thudding heart, Hermione watched as Severus' lip curled upwards into what she knew to be a sign of intense displeasure on his part. He didn't say anything for a few, excruciatingly long seconds and just stared at her, fury burning in his obsidian eyes. And then, when he did eventually speak, it was with such cold harshness that Hermione was surprised the air before him hadn't liquidized and frozen.

"Surely, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes still piercing hers, "You didn't expect me to invite you in to my private home, offer you tea and biscuits and then proceed to happily share with you my entire life story to be splattered across the pages of your newspaper?"

Swallowing, Hermione reminded herself that to show any fear at this point would be to commit suicide and courageously stood her ground. She could do this, and she would do this. For Hestia, and for the newspaper. "No, what I did however expect was for you to actually consider it before slamming the door in my face, and then for us to perhaps arrange a neutral place to meet where I could ask you a few questions about how your ideas for the potion came about, and then I'd go and write it up in a way that didn't compromise your privacy or integrity. Oh, and technically, it's not my newspaper – it's Hestia's. Though I did help to form it." A triumphant smile very almost burst onto her face once she'd finished, but she firmly pushed it back and kept her expression neutral.

For a few silent moments, Severus wasn't quite sure how to respond. It was an impressive speech if nothing else, and so he decided to say so. "A pretty speech, Miss Granger, and no doubt one you repeatedly churn out to your reluctant interviewees."

There was just no winning with this man, was there? "No, actually." She smirked, wondering whether she dared to say what she was planning to next. Well, she'd come this far, there was no harm in it. "Most of my interviewees don't play quite so hard to get."

Raising an eyebrow, Severus took a menacing step forward until he was leaning over her slightly, his shadow falling across her slim frame. "Hard to get, Miss Granger?" he replied silkily, his eyes betraying nothing. "I'm playing impossible to get. I spent enough years listening to your petty questions whilst you were at school, why on earth would I want to arrange a meeting specifically to hear more?"

Hermione looked up, feeling his cool breath fan on to her face. She refused to be intimidated. "If this is supposed to scare me off, Professor, I'm afraid it's not working. And I will not be asking 'petty' questions, I just want a few impartial words on how you developed the potion and maybe where your inspiration came from. I'm not asking for the secrets of your soul, God forbid. And if there's any questions you don't want to answer within reason, then that's fine. I'm asking for an hour of your time, is that really so bad?"

Letting out a terse sigh, Severus leant back and strangely, Hermione immediately missed the warmth of his body radiating down on to hers. The Potion's Lab felt very draughty all of a sudden.

"Fine," he said, stepping away to check on the sleeping Mrs Hartington.

Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth falling open a little way. "You'll give me an interview?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Severus told her, not turning around from where he was checking that the old woman's temperature and heart-rate were correct. "I'll give you half an hour. Meet me outside Klefton's Coffee Shop at two o'clock sharp tomorrow."

"Can't we make it an hour - ?"

"Do you want me to make it fifteen minutes, Miss Granger?" He paused, waiting for her to reply. "No, good. Klefton's Coffee Shop. Two o'clock. Half an hour. Don't be late."

Hermione stared at his turned back in disbelief before shaking her head and sighing. "Fine, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon then."

"Goodbye, Miss Granger," he replied, waving a dismissive hand towards the door.

"Goodbye."

* * *

It was only as Hermione was nearing her flat that she realised that in all the chaos, she'd left the milk in the alleyway along Diagon Alley. Well, too late now. She'd have to go out again in the morning to get some more.

Fishing in her coat pocket, Hermione sighed and thought back to her former Potion's Professor's lab, and how, well, interesting it had been. It had been stocked with all sorts of ingredients and equipment, even a few things that were completely foreign to her. Then there was the way he brewed with such agile precision, his movements almost graceful as he stirred ingredients, uncorked vials and measured out the potions. He was, truly, an enigma. Sarcastic, abrasive and cutting on the whole, but then, Hermione felt like she had witnessed a different side to him that evening. A gentler, deeper, more mysterious and, dare she say it, caring side. He had cared that Mrs Hartington didn't like hospitals, and had offered his services instead. He had even wanted to attend to the elderly shop-owner so urgently, that he hadn't bothered to refuse her offer to help.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Hermione was dragged out of her musings as she stepped into the confines of her flat to be greeted by an incredulous looking Carl. Something strange sank inside her upon seeing his expression, and she very nearly let out a weary sigh. This had happened before, and she only hoped this wasn't going to be a repeat of those few, admittedly rare, episodes.

"It's a long story," she replied, pulling her coat and scarf off as she resolutely ignored the suddenly tense atmosphere in the air. It was bitterly familiar, but as on the previous times, Hermione was determined not to let the situation escalate, which it almost always did. Not that this happened often, of course, she reminded herself.

"Oh, really?" he asked sceptically, raising an impatient eyebrow at her. "Well where's the milk? That's what you went out for."

Sighing, Hermione ran a hand through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wishing it would dispel the atmosphere. No such luck. "Carl, don't start this," she said calmly, keeping her voice as normal and soft as possible. "Calm down and I'll tell you."

"No, I won't calm down!" he exclaimed, not yet flying into a complete rage. "I've been sat here, waiting for you for hours! I've been worried out of my head, wondering if anything's happened to you, and then you come back without what you went out for..."

"Carl," she said quickly, her tone a little sharper as she stepped forward and tried to gently place her hands on his shoulders, just as she did all the time. But whereas that was usually the beginnings of a kiss, or hug, this time he batted her away, and at that, Hermione knew she had failed to prevent his anger from escalating.

"Come on then," he said, his voice turning ever so slightly into a hiss as he leant on the back of the sofa. "Where have you been?"

"Just calm down, Carl, there's no need for you to get angry, please..." Hermione paused, glancing down. "I hate it when you do this."

"And I hate it when _you_ do this!" he shouted back, standing up again. "When you go out for ten minutes, supposedly, and then don't come back for hours! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were –"

"Don't say it," Hermione warned, her stomach clenching. She really did truly hate it when Carl started to do this. It wasn't all the time, it wasn't even regular, but even so, she hated it. Most of the time, Carl was fantastic. He was funny, caring, attentive, romantic...everything she could ask for. But sometimes, just sometimes, he'd get a little paranoid – angry, if she didn't arrive when she said she would, or stay out for longer than she planned; she hated it. "Don't you dare accuse me of having an affair, I couldn't!" Sighing, she tried to step towards him again. "I love you, please don't do this again."

There was silence for a few moments, anger still lightly pulsating through his veins as he glared at the floor with unnaturally hard eyes. Eventually, he looked up again, his face a little calmer. "Well...why were you out so long then?"

Hermione sighed, hoping that was the end of it. Though she had a horrible feeling it might not be – there were other occasions where he had stayed furious at her for much longer than twenty minutes. "I was on my way back, with the milk, when I heard these cries..." she paused, glancing at his expression, but it still hadn't changed from its state of slight disbelief. Determined to be undeterred, she carried on. "They were coming from an alleyway, so obviously, I had to go down and see who they were coming from. It sounded like someone was in real pain, so I lit my wand and had a look around."

"And who was it?" Carl asked, sounding like a police officer that didn't believe his suspect's story.

"It turned out to be Mrs Hartington – she had left her house keys in the shop and gone back for them; she was just making her way back home for the second time when she fell. I think she'd broken the bone in her hip, or at the top of her thigh, but I'm no medical expert so I'm not entirely sure."

"So what happened then?" he inquired suspiciously, not helping the uncomfortable clench in Hermione's stomach. She was forever terrified that one day, he would refuse to believe the truth, accuse her outright of cheating and then...then, she would have no idea what the hell to do. She didn't even want to think about it. "Surely if she was injured, you could have just apparated her to St. Mungo's and been home an hour ago."

Letting out a weary sigh, Hermione looked at her boyfriend for a moment, wondering why on earth he was being so paranoid. She hadn't so much as looked at another man since getting together with him; she just wished he would realise that. So, it with some semblance of annoyance that she continued to tell him all about what had happened next: about how Mrs Hartington hated hospitals, how Severus Snape had turned up and helped and how she had offered to aid him in healing her. And all the time, Carl's facial expression didn't budge.

Silence greeted the end of her story as she looked up, a pained expression in her eyes. "Carl, I'm telling the truth. I'll gladly swallow Veriteserum and tell you the whole thing again. Now can you stop doing this? It's ridiculous, and I'm fed up of it. Mrs Hartington injured herself, I helped to heal her and in amongst all that, I accidently left the milk in the alleyway. You can decide whether or not to believe me, because I'm off to bed." With that, she stepped purposefully towards the bedroom door, only for a hand to reach out and lightly grab her hand.

"Hermione," Carl said softly, tugging her back towards him. "I'm sorry, I do believe you."

"And so you should," she huffed, not yet meeting his gaze. "I hate it when you do this, Carl. I could never cheat on you, and I don't like being accused of it. Just stop being so paranoid, it's silly."

"I know." He reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear. "I'm sorry, I just got so worried and jumped to conclusions, I didn't mean to upset you. I really am sorry, Hermione."

She sighed and looked up at him, pushing a small smile onto her face. "Okay, well good. But please, don't do this again, Carl. You know I love you, there's no reason for you to be so suspicious. I'll go out and get some more milk in the morning for your cereal."

"No, it's okay," he told her softly, his hand resting lightly on her waist. "I can just have toast, it's not a problem. Come on, let's go to bed."

Hermione nodded, but as they made to head for the bedroom, she stopped and frowned. "What happened to the lasagne?"

"Oh." Carl stopped and turned around, looking a little sheepish. "I accidently let it burn..."

"It burnt?" Hermione asked, a small laugh coming from her lips.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she said, walking over to him. "I'm not really hungry anyway, just tired. Come on." And with that, they disappeared into the bedroom. But unlike usual, Hermione went to sleep straight away, just with Carl's arms lightly around her. She drifted off uneasily, not used to them both going straight to sleep without doing, well, anything else. And the uncomfortable clenching in her stomach still hadn't completely gone away.

* * *

_**Hope that was okay, and it doesn't come across as a major character change. As I said, Carl has always been a bit like that, it's just the first time you, as the readers, have seen it. Thanks for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	9. The Dissatisfied Niggle

_**Hi, thank you for the reviews as always, you're all so kind! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it and please keep the feedback coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just playing with JK's toys. =D**_

_**Chapter 9 – The Dissatisfied Niggle **_

* * *

The atmosphere in Hermione's flat the next morning was indescribable. Everything was back to normal, or so it seemed, but there was something drifting in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Carl had kissed her that morning, lovingly on the lips, before slipping out of bed as he usually did to dress for work. Hell, he had even made her breakfast in bed before heading out for his early morning shift. So why did Hermione feel...well, like something wasn't quite right? And why was the uncomfortable cramping in the pit of her stomach still there, lingering like a bad omen?

Eventually, after much thought and staring at the wall with a glum expression, Hermione managed to find words to describe it. It was her – not him that felt strange. It was almost as if, on the surface, everything had returned to the charming, wonderful world she usually lived in. The world where Carl was loving, attentive, caring and well, his usual self. And to him, everything was perfectly fine. But to her, for some reason, after the previous night's argument it felt like a mask. Like a thin layer of sunshine to smooth out the churning grey cloud beneath.

There was something wrong in the foundations of their relationship, and it was something that was beginning to gnaw very silently at the back of Hermione's mind, despite her constant efforts to push it away. She sat for a while like that, lost in thought, and trying to tell herself that she was being ridiculous. She kept reminding herself how lucky she was to have someone like Carl, who she truly enjoyed being with and who took good care of her. She told herself time and time again to stop being so silly, and to be grateful that she had the boyfriend and relationship that others desperately wanted to have.

But then, just as Hermione had almost convinced herself that she was getting worked up over nothing, an image would return to the forefront of her mind. The image of his accusing eyes, boring into hers, fury etched against his so usually calm features. It kept drifting back to haunt her, feeding the dissatisfied niggle at the back of her brain. It was such a different face to that of the Carl she loved with all her heart, yet at the same time, she had long since known it was a part of him. Just as there was no way of taking her determination to learn and gather information away from her personality, there was no way of taking this underlying paranoia and insecurity away from his. And now, it was beginning to very slowly eat away at her conscience.

It was only five minutes later, when Hermione glanced at the clock, that she realised she was going to be late for work. Jumping out of bed and rushing into the bathroom, Hermione pushed away the confused, tangled thoughts in her mind away for the time being and concentrated on trying not to be too late. Where on earth was a time-turner when you needed one?

* * *

"You're late," Hestia said, albeit with a smile on her face as she pushed back a straight curtain of ebony coloured hair and Hermione rushed into the office.

Hermione looked up at her and smiled, dumping her bag onto her own desk. "You owe me a drink," she replied, leaning casually back against the wooden surface. "In fact, you might even owe me two."

Hestia's face lit up, a grin stretching across it. "You got the interview?"

She gave a nod. "I got the interview."

"I knew you could do it!" Hestia exclaimed, pulling her friend into a tight hug as Hermione grinned proudly. "I have no idea how you did do it, but congratulations. I definitely owe you two drinks, if not three! So, when are you meeting him?"

Still smiling, Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear and glanced up at the clock. "Not until two o'clock, and he's only giving me half an hour, but hey, it's an interview. I'll just have to try and wheedle as much out of him as possible in the time."

"Did you try to get him to agree to an hour?" Hestia asked, wondering if half an hour would be enough for them to get what they needed for a substantial feature.

"Yeah, no chance," Hermione told her, shaking her head.

"Why, what did he say?"

"He asked me if I wanted to make it fifteen minutes, what do you think?" she answered with a roll of the eyes as she settled herself down behind her desk and took out her notepad. "Right, I better start devising some questions to ask him. Is there anything else you want me to do before I go?"

Hestia shook her head and looked out to where Oliver and Hannah were busy scribbling away, trying to convert the scientific notes provided by the Ministry's testing department into an article that the public could actually understand without having an advanced NEWT in Potions. "No, it's fine, you come up with some good questions that he'll actually answer. I need to get on to statistics for this Broomstick Survey that's supposedly worthy of tomorrow's front page."

"Okay then, see you later," Hermione replied, only glancing up briefly from her writing to see that Hestia had already rushed off, a bundle of draught articles in her arms. It was amazing sometimes how they actually got _The Phoenix_ out on time every single morning, but they had never failed yet. And they weren't ever going to, if she had any say in it.

* * *

As Hermione left _The Phoenix_ offices' at half past one that afternoon, the winter sun was weakly trying to shine down on London, bathing everything in a pale glow that did little to ease her nerves. Frost still lined the cobbles of Diagon Alley, glittering slightly in the light as she made her way towards a wide alley that she knew would lead her to Klefton's Coffee Shop and, ultimately, to the former Potion's professor who would most likely be her most difficult interviewee yet.

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. Though, scared wasn't quite the word either. Hermione had long since stopped being afraid of Severus Snape; but she was wracked with anxiety, hoping that her questions would reap enough information, and that he wouldn't be too difficult.

"Who am I kidding?" Hermione muttered to herself as she turned down the alleyway and pulled her cloak further around her body. "Of course he's going to be difficult. He's Snape."

* * *

She had her head down as she approached the coffee shop, curls bouncing slightly on her shoulders as she walked at a brisk, purposeful pace - probably trying not to be late. That, at least, he appreciated.

"Miss Granger," he said as she entered and cast a searching glance around, missing the small table he occupied in the corner. "I'm over here, and you're wasting time."

Turning to face him, Hermione quickly made her way over and sat in the seat opposite him, immediately taking out her notepad and biro. Muggle pens were so much easier to write with when you were trying to take things down quickly, and if you didn't care really what your handwriting looked like. "Thank you again for agreeing to meet me," she said as she looked up, meeting his expressionless gaze.

"Agreed, Miss Granger?" he asked dryly, one eyebrow twitching upwards slightly. "_Coerced_ might be a more fitting word, don't you think?"

"I didn't force you to come here," Hermione told him, keeping her tone neutral and perfectly polite. "Now, do you want me to start, or...?"

"Well I'd rather you not," he replied, almost enjoying the look of annoyance that passed over her face. "But then you'd just start pestering me again, so you better fire away, Miss Granger." He waited until she opened her mouth to ask the first question before interrupting her. "You have twenty-five minutes."

The nerve of the man, really! Hermione inwardly huffed as she gripped her pen tighter in her hand. If she was being completely honest with herself, it was vaguely amusing, but not when it was eating away at her interview time. So, she straightened herself up in her chair, masked her face with professionalism and asked, with no semblance of annoyance or familiarity, "There are a great many problems, medical issues and ailments in the world that are still without a cure, so what was it that made you want to find the solution to the problem of people who have been subjected to the Obliviate charm?"

Severus paused for a moment, looking as though he was seriously deliberating her question. "After the war," he said, his face expressionless as ever, "There were a lot of people left with no recollection of what role they may have played, who they might have lost, and what sort of life they led before the Dark Lord's reign – such was the nature of the Death Eater's who chose, bizarrely, to leave their victims alive, but with no idea as to who or where they were. I've seen these sorts of attacks happen before my very eyes, Miss Granger, and I won't pretend to have tried to prevent it. But when I came across some research, it started me thinking that maybe there was a way to restore the memories to those who have lost them."

For a few silent seconds, Hermione couldn't say anything. She had heard of such attacks, where certain Death Eaters had thought it amusing to leave their victims as empty shells of their former selves, almost as if they had been Kissed, but she had never thought of it being linked to him in any way. But then, he had been a Death Eater; he had had a role to play. Why shouldn't he have seen them, witnessed them? And, if she knew him a little better, she would go so far as to say there was a hint of regret in his voice – a sort of pang that said that in some way, he had developed the potion as a way of easing his guilt. He couldn't intervene when their memories had been mercilessly robbed from them, but he could do something now...

Nodding, Hermione shook herself from her musings and quickly jotted down what he had said, along with the outline of her own thoughts. She would decide what to put in the actual article later – she was sure he wouldn't be too impressed with her analysing the meaning behind his words.

There was a strange look on her face that Severus didn't like at all. Her brow was furrowed slightly, lips set into a slight pout that signalled to him that she was thinking. And thinking, with Hermione Granger, wasn't good. It meant she was dissecting him, analysing, and not for the first time that day, he wondered whether this was a good idea. To him, he had managed to answer the question quite impartially, but then he had forgotten who he was dealing with. Hermione Granger – queen of underlying messages, hidden emotions and of analysing every tiny little detail. He let out a small sigh as she looked up again, ready to continue. Perhaps he should be a little more careful with his answers.

* * *

_**I hope that was okay, and that I've kept everyone reasonably in character. I just want to say a big thank you to TheFatalIllusion for reading through a part of this chapter for me and giving her valuable advice, and to all of you for reading, reviewing, alerting, etc. I'll hopefully update very soon!**_

_**X =D**_


	10. Questions and Answers

_**First of all, apologies for the lateness of this chapter, I went back to school yesterday and have been getting ready for the run up to that. I'm also pretty disappointed about my time-table. Triple geography, anyone? Anyway, thanks as always for the lovely reviews, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for sticking with me!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, just my own crazy brain. =D**_

_**Chapter 10 – Questions and Answers**_

* * *

"I will remind you that you only have nineteen minutes left, Miss Granger," he told her, resisting a smirk as she jotted down his answer to that last question, concerning where he had sourced some of the rarer ingredients included in the potion.

The look she gave him at that point was enough to make any other being fall silent, but Severus merely glared back at her, unable to help his lips twisting up slightly into an ever so faintly visible smirk. "Well maybe things would move a little quicker if you'd just let me get on with it," she told him through gritted teeth, trying her best not to lose her temper with him. She knew that would merely be a sure fire way to make him stand up and sweep out of the coffee shop with an order to never contact him about an interview again.

"Just keeping you informed," he replied pleasantly, taking a sip of dark, sugarless coffee.

Letting out a small sigh, Hermione looked up at him again and gripped her pen slightly tighter. "Restoring memories must be a complicated thing; could you give a rough outline as to how exactly the _Recro Memoria _potion works?"

"Miss Granger, we have all of seventeen minutes left. Certainly not enough time to explain to you the precise workings of my potion, as if you'd understand them."

Hermione's blood boiled a little at that as she seethed inside, her knuckles burning white from the way in which she clutched her pen in order to stop herself from lashing out at him. He had been acting this way for the entire interview: difficult, evasive and constantly reminding her of what time they had left. He was infuriating, to say the least. "Roughly," she said again, keeping her voice level in what should have been hailed as a saint's attempt to not show any sign of anger. He was truly beginning to try her patience.

Severus gave a terse sigh as he swallowed more coffee, his dark eyes flicking down to take in her pen, poised over the new, small sheet of lined paper. "The Obliviate charm, contrary to public assumption, works to not destroy or delete memory, but merely break it down – dismantle it, if you like, and scatter it at the back of the mind where it makes no sense, and is impossible to recognise. The potion I have developed is extremely complex, and works on a variety of levels, but simply put, so the dunderheads reading your paper will understand, it manages to repair those fragments of memory and piece them back together, one by one, until the victim's memory is once more intact."

Sighing in relief at his provision of an actually, very decent answer (aside from the dunderheads part, which she decided she might just leave out of the actual article), Hermione quickly scrawled his words down, the nib of the pen scratching across the clean paper. "Thank you," she said, her tone genuinely grateful as she looked up again to meet with his obsidian eyes, their depths impenetrable and completely unfathomable.

He smirked a little again, almost as if the expression simply belonged on his face. Well, she supposed he had spent most of his life with his face set that way whilst teaching. "Fourteen minutes."

* * *

Hermione had just finished writing down his , admittedly vague, answer to the very last question about whether or not he was planning to do anything next, and if so, what, when he cleared his throat and finally set down his coffee cup. "Time's up, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied as she clicked her pen shut with an air of annoyance that was beginning to grow slowly visible to the former spy and potions professor sat across from her. "Thank you again for meeting me, and for not being quite as difficult as I thought, answering my questions." She gave him a small smile whilst slipping her notebook back into her bag.

He raised an eyebrow, lips tightening slightly. "You expected me to be extremely difficult, Miss Granger? I'm afraid you've got the wrong person; that's your little Weasley friend."

She smiled again and drained the last of her coffee. "I'm not saying you weren't difficult. Have you ever considered a career in time-keeping?"

In that moment, his lips quirked up into something that, if Hermione didn't know any better, she would have said was halfway between a smirk and a smile. And for Snape, that was saying something. "I'm perfectly content with what I'm doing now, thank you."

Hermione nodded, sensing that it was time to leave. She would drop in on Harry on the way home; she hadn't seen him since Teddy's party and even then she hadn't had much chance to talk to him properly, what with the few other four year olds running about and Ginny fussing, along with Molly and Fleur who had repeatedly proclaimed 'How cute zee petit garcon' was. Not that it was easy to judge, what with the many times the young metamorphagus changed his appearance. And then there was one year old James Sirius, crying and begging to be held or fed or burped or whatever it was that babies constantly needed doing. Sometimes, she wondered how on earth Ginny coped. "How is Mrs Hartington, by the way?"

"Her leg is normal again and she's back at home, if that's what you mean," he replied, though his tone was not at all unfriendly. "I have given her a potion for her rheumatism too though; the stubborn woman has never been to St. Mungo's to ask about anything that could help it."

Hermione nodded again, gently chewing on her lip as she briefly mulled over the tone in his voice. There was some kind of slip in his usually blank, dry manner of speaking as he talked about the kindly old lady who owned the bookshop they both visited often. It was almost as if his voice softened slightly, though of course, it was barely noticeable. Snape and 'soft' did not belong in the same sentence.

"Okay, well, I'll pay her a visit sometime soon. Thanks again," she said, gathering her things as she made to stand up.

Giving her a single nod, Severus also stood up and for a moment they paused, not quite knowing what to say to each other. "Oh, and Miss Granger?"

She turned back to face him properly. "Yes?"

"Send me a copy of the interview before it's printed. I'm not going to let you loose with my words without looking over the finished version first."

Pausing for a moment, Hermione pressed back the strange desire to laugh at the typical insistence. She was surprised she hadn't seen it coming. "Of course," she said with a nod, pulling her hair out from under the collar of her coat. "Goodbye, professor."

"Good bye." And with that, he was gone. Hermione stared after him for a moment, before quitting the coffee shop herself. They had paid for their coffees upon ordering, though she suspected that had been a way for him to waste time. Still, she seemed to have what she needed. Hestia definitely owed her a drink sometime.

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed upon opening the door, his black hair messy on his head and something that looked suspiciously like baby food on his top.

"Looking after the boys?" Hermione asked as she stepped inside the large, quaint cottage in Godric's Hollow.

"Yeah," he said with the sort of wide, proud grin that only a father could wear, glancing back towards the kitchen where James was sat in his highchair and Teddy was playing on the floor, his hair a violent shade of red. "Ginny's gone for a shopping day with some friends, so I took a day off work."

Hermione smiled and waved at Teddy who happily shouted his greeting back, before returning to the wooden train set in front of him.

"I've just finished feeding James if you want to look after him while I try get this off," Harry told her, grimacing down at the yellow coloured stain near his shoulder. "He's got into the habit of flicking it everywhere once he's had enough."

Laughing, Hermione nodded and as Harry pulled out his wand, she gently picked James up from out of his high chair. The baby boy was heavier than she remembered, it seemed as though she was carrying a large sack of potatoes around on her hip, rather than a small child. Though sacks of potatoes don't give strangely adorable, wonky-toothed grins. Neither do they dribble. "Hello, James," she said softly, though careful not to use the high, patronising tone that so many adults use around babies.

"Aunty 'Mione!" James exclaimed, though it came out as a bit of a babble. He lifted one sticky hand from where he had been clutching her top to wave at her, the smile stretching across his chubby face again. "Daddy says I'm bad."

She laughed again, cuddling her nephew closer and pressing her lips briefly to the crop of dark brown hair already springing from his head. "You're not bad, James," she told him reassuringly as Harry smiled and cleared away the highchair. "But you shouldn't throw food around like that, because then your Daddy has to clean it up."

A look of mischievous guilt crossed the youngest Potter's face as he giggled and stretched his arms out towards Harry. "Sorreee!" he squealed as Harry lifted him from Hermione's arms with a smile.

* * *

Half an hour later and James had drifted off for his afternoon nap, leaving Teddy to happily play with the toy broomstick that Hermione and Carl had bought him for his birthday. He was already beginning to show signs of accidental magic, even without the constant, erratic changes to his appearance. This found Hermione and Harry sat comfortably together on the couch, discussing life in general and the miracle that was Snape, giving an interview.

"Oh," Harry said, looking as though he'd just remembered something. "Have you heard about Ron and Gina?"

"No," Hermione said with a small frown. "Why, what about them?"

"They're getting married," Harry explained, offering his friend a small smile. "So expect another massive Weasley wedding and get together anytime soon."

"Oh right," Hermione said, the frown still not leaving her face as she wondered why Ron hadn't contacted her to say. Why couldn't she share in the good news, too? "Well that's great! I knew it must have been on the cards somewhere along the lines."

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful for a moment as he studied her face. "You're okay with it then?" he asked, casually leaning back again.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be? I just wonder why he didn't write, or drop in to tell me, that's all. Surely he knows I'd be happy for him."

Shrugging, Harry smiled and glanced over to the corner of the room where Teddy was mastering the art of hovering, a sloppy grin on his boyish face. "I think he does; he just... You know what Ron's like, a bit haphazard and all over the place. I think he maybe does expect you to be a little hurt, I don't know..."

Hermione frowned again. "The ship between me and him sailed a long time ago, and he knows that. I'm really happy for him and Gina; besides, I have Carl now. He can't honestly think I still have feelings for him!"

"No, no," Harry said, holding a hand up in an effort to calm her down. "Don't worry; he doesn't think anything like that. He's just terrified of upsetting anyone, you know how he is. He'll make sure you know in his own time. I wouldn't take it personally, Hermione."

"Yeah, I know," she said with a small sigh, looking fondly over to where Teddy was spinning around on the broomstick, faster and faster as he made small 'weee!' sounds. "Well, I better get going anyway. I need to drop in back at the office to let Hestia know that Snape didn't abduct me and then strangle me to death in some secluded alleyway."

Harry laughed and stood up, making his way over to the door to see her out. "Okay then, Hermione. Well thanks for dropping in, you and Carl will have to come over soon for dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione said with a nod before giving Teddy one last wave goodbye. "See you, Harry." They hugged, and then she stepped out into the cold late afternoon where dirty grey clouds had moved in to cover the sun. "Bye." And with that, she disapparated.

* * *

_**Sorry again for the delay in updating. I will try my best to be quicker next time! Thanks for reading, I hope it was okay for you all and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	11. Ruining Itself

_**Hi, thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! I'm really glad you're still enjoying the story and I hope you like this chapter!**_

_**X =D**_

_**P.S – Another quick thank you to Moewe – your reviews are so lovely, I feel I do have to thank you personally! And thanks, but I'd rather keep my geography than have any more maths, haha! **_

_**Chapter 11 – Ruining Itself**_

* * *

It was steadily growing dark when Hermione left the office, causing London to be swathed in the dim glow of twilight as she made her way through the streets. There was a tangible dampness swirling in the air, signalling the next morning's imminent mist and possible rain; she knew it was quicker and easier to apparate, but there was something relaxing about being able to walk home after a tiring day. And today had most certainly been tiring.

After being left feeling utterly perplexed and dare she say it, a little curious, standing outside the coffee shop, Hermione had made her way back to the_ Phoenix_ offices to construct something reasonably compelling from Snape's words. Although some of his answers were admittedly very interesting (hence her piqued curiosity) others were vague, at best, and she knew that she couldn't possibly twist his words too much. Ending up with her head on a silver platter wasn't top of her list of priorities.

The only reason, then, for the slight lift in Hermione's mood as she made her way home was the fact that Hestia had not only promised her a drink or two, but a whole girls' night out, along with Hannah Abbott, who had jumped at the chance of going out again for the first time since giving birth to her second child three months ago.

* * *

The apartment was dimly lit when Hermione got in and at first she thought that Carl wasn't back yet for some reason or another. But upon closer inspection, she soon realised that the subdued lighting was due to the softly glowing candles scattered about the room, their warm flames flickering and casting a host of dancing shadows onto the walls. As she removed her cloak, Hermione noticed a bottle of red wine, sat patiently on the coffee table along with two glasses. She frowned slightly, stepping towards it with her gaze fixed on it, as though it was some kind of strange apparition.

"Surprise," a happy voice said quietly as Hermione turned to see Carl enter the room, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

It took Hermione's face a few seconds to settle into a natural smile. "What's all this about?"

Carl offered her a smile, his eyes looking a little guilty. "It's a romantic night in, to say sorry about last night." His smile spread a little wider. "I even cooked."

That alone was enough to get Hermione laughing. "You didn't?" she asked, her first thought being to rush into the kitchen and make sure it was all still intact.

Chuckling, Carl put his arms out to stop her from doing just that. "It's alright! I borrowed a really simple recipe from Molly – everything's fine."

Hermione smiled at him, all lingering worries about the previous night's argument slowly seeping away from the forefront of her mind. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, stepping closer towards her. "Absolutely. No burnt stuff, no broken plates, and definitely no food poisoning." He reached out to place his hands on her waist as he spoke, gentle eyes fixed on her face.

A small laugh tumbled from Hermione's lips as she rested her own hands on his shoulders, still smiling softly. "In that case then..." Then they were kissing, gently, softly, as though they were greeting each other after a long time apart. And as their tongues entangled, Carl's arms pulling her closer, Hermione could barely remember what he was saying sorry for.

The sharp beeping of the smoke alarm ruined the moment.

Carl jumped back from her, eyes suddenly panicked as he rushed off towards the kitchen, calling out to her to stay where she was, that everything was fine. Raising an eyebrow as the beeping persisted, Hermione sighed and quickly followed him. She knew he couldn't have possibly managed to cook her a meal without setting _something_ on fire. It was something she had known for a long time – Give Carl a complicated operation to do under pressurised circumstances and limited time, and he'd cope perfectly fine. Shove a recipe under his nose and ask him to cook however, and you were running towards the nearest fire escape.

"What did you burn?"

Carl turned around from where he'd been hurriedly turning the stove off with one hand, and flicking his wand at the smoke alarm with the other. He sighed, shoulders sagging slightly as he looked at the large pot that now sat in front of him. All the pasta had stuck to the sides and burnt, leaving the sauce to begin bubbling and slowly turn a colour that didn't make it look at all appetising. Hermione leant forward to peer at it after he didn't reply, her lips quirking up into an amused smile as she took in the sight of the burnt pasta.

"It doesn't matter, Carl. We can just get a takeaway, you know," she told him, taking out her wand to dissolve the pot of its burnt contents.

"I know," he said, looking a little aggravated as she transported the now empty pot to the sink. "But I wanted to cook for you."

Hermione laughed and picked up the leaflet for a nearby Italian takeaway. "It really doesn't matter, you don't have to try and do things that you know will only end in disaster. Come on, we'll order a pizza and open that bottle of wine that's in the lounge. I'm sure it'll be just as romantic."

Carl sighed and reluctantly made his way over to glance at the menu. "I'll have whatever you're having," he told her after a few seconds, before grabbing the corkscrew and quitting the kitchen.

Hermione frowned, glancing towards the door that he had just disappeared through. She shrugged off his slight change in mood before looking thoughtfully back at the menu in her hands. "Chicken and pepper pizza alright?" she called out, her question swirling in the silent flat before Carl called back.

"Whatever."

Sighing, Hermione put the menu back down and grabbed the phone. It was just some burnt pasta, she didn't see why it mattered all that much.

* * *

Hermione drained her wine glass and set it back down on the table, next to the empty pizza box that sat there. "See, it wasn't a bad night after all," she said quietly to Carl as she leant back against him, relaxing as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Even if the pasta did get ruined." After the pizza had arrived and they'd had a couple of glasses of wine each, the mood had gently slipped back into the same easy, romantic one that had been there when Hermione got in. The candles had burnt down further over the few hours, and now the room was cast into a very dim glow of yellow light, leaving some corners in darkness.

Carl smiled slightly into her hair and glanced at the empty pizza box. "Yeah, it was good...Maybe we should do this more often. I'm not working tomorrow night, and there's still some wine left."

"Oh," Hermione said, biting her lip and twisting her head around slightly to look at him. "I was planning on going out tomorrow night with Hestia and Hannah from the office. It's sort of a celebratory 'you actually got the bat of the dungeons to talk' girls' night out."

It was silent for a moment, until Carl said one word, and the awkwardness tightness rose up again in Hermione's chest, like a bolt of lightning out of nowhere. "Oh."

His tone was cold all of a sudden, as though he'd just been told he'd been fired. Hermione watched, impossibly tense as he looked down at her and she began to identify the ice as it crept into his gaze. His expression had grown ever so slightly harder upon her informing him of her plans and for the second time in two days, Hermione's stomach clenched up with dread. "You...You'd rather go out?" he asked, sounding like some strict headmaster who had just been spoken back to.

"It's already planned, Carl," she told him with a sigh, sitting up straight so she could face him properly. "It's not that I wouldn't love to stay in and do this again. But we can do this any time, and I'm really looking forward to having a proper girls' night out. I haven't done that in ages."

"Oh, we can do this any time, can we?" Carl's lips tightened, an edge of rage creeping into his tone that made Hermione's soul just sink in her body. They were supposed to be having a romantic night in, not arguing again. She felt the tragically familiar feeling of knowing a volcano was about to erupt, but not being able to do a single thing about it. "Well, of course we can," he carried on, sounding more and more bitter, "That is, we can whenever I'm not having to work late, when you decide to come home on time and when you actually choose to stay at home with me rather than going out, seeing God knows who, God knows where."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Actually fell open. No-one had ever talked to her like that since...Since, well, since she had once had a vicious row with her parents about staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, instead of spending it with them. And she wasn't having it. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

"You heard," Carl told her harshly, before getting up off the sofa and grabbing his cloak off the stand with so much force, it actually toppled over. "Well, if you get to go out at all hours rather than spending any time with me, then maybe I'll do the same."

"Carl, don't!" Hermione called out, getting up off the sofa with tears pricking at her eyes again. How the hell had such a calm, enjoyable evening plummeted down to this? She barely ever went out, and now she was talking about _one_ night, Carl was getting all furious again. Hermione was beginning to wonder how long this was going to go on before she eventually cracked. "It's just one night with a couple of friends. Do you really not trust me at all?" she asked as he placed a hand on the door handle.

He threw a cold glance back towards her, his eyes hurt, yet cruelly accusing at the same time. "No." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

She wanted to run out after him and scream, shout at him and tell him that she wasn't just going to take this. She wanted to fly into a rage and yell about how sick and tired she was of him not trusting her, and about how much his ridiculous actions were hurting her. But as Hermione stared at the door, watching as it still quivered slightly in its frame from where he'd slammed it behind him, she realised that she just couldn't be bothered. She was too tired, too worn out, and simply too fed up. The dissatisfied niggle that had been at the back of her mind that morning returned in full force, and she suddenly felt like it was dragging down on her entire being. Like a heavy weight was attached to her gut, pulling her towards the centre of the earth.

It was only when she noticed that her face was wet that Hermione realised she was crying. Hot, anguished tears were streaming thickly from her eyes as she sank down onto the floor, succumbing to the weight dragging down on her heart. She had come to the point where she could no longer think exactly why Carl was doing what he was; it didn't make sense. And she was tired of defending his intentions and making excuses where he failed himself. She didn't go out every night of the week, she mainly came home as soon as she could, and she kept him as much involved in her life as possible. Always told him about her day, what she'd done, who she'd met and seen... As far as she could work out, Hermione hadn't done anything to cause his mistrust. So what the hell was wrong with him?

A sob leapt from her throat as she buried her wet face in her hands, streaming eyes continuously darting up to glance at the door. But it stayed shut. And the flat stayed empty.

An hour later, after Hermione's tears had dried out and she felt like there was no point in shedding any more, she stood up. Eventually, she had had to accept that Carl wasn't returning that night, and why should she be crying over him anyway? He'd come back when he saw fit, and then she wanted an explanation. A _proper_ explanation; they were going to talk this through, even if it killed her. Letting out a long sigh, Hermione rubbed her hands across her still damp face and made her way to the bedroom. She curled up in the sheets that night, chin tucked into her knees as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about anything except the way her relationship seemed intent on ruining itself.

* * *

_**Sorry to cut it off there, but I will try to update as soon as possible! Hope this chapter was okay for you, and please leave your thoughts in a review!**_

_**X =D**_


	12. Hope and Apathy

_**Wow, thank you all so much again for your reviews! It always delights me to see how many people are enjoying the story and as always, a quick thank you to Moewe – I'm sorry to dredge up any unpleasant memories, and lucky you – wish I had a Severus sticker I could put on my pillow! **_

_**Well here's the next chapter, with a bit more Severus in than I planned for 'MegaNerdAlert'. I hope you all enjoy it and please keep the valuable reviews coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. There, I said it. I'm off to cry now...=D**_

_**Chapter 12 – Hope and Apathy**_

* * *

As expected, mist and rain descended down on London in the early hours of the next morning, drenching the concrete streets and swathing the Thames with a dewy fog. It was the sound of the rain, persistently crashing against the window that eventually woke Severus up, a few hours earlier than he had intended. The dark wooden floor was predictably cold as he stepped out of bed and groaned in disapproval at the rain. Glancing at the clock, Severus realised just how early it really was, and suddenly found it very prudent to send a furious sneer towards the window and out at the rain, as though that alone would make it stop. If it wasn't the meddling headmistress of Hogwarts or the Granger girl disturbing him, it was the weather. There really was no peace, not even here, where he had hoped to barely ever have to truly converse with another being again.

Pulling on a thick robe, Severus made his way through to the kitchen, not bothering with the lights as he did so. The grim, grey light coming in through the windows was enough to illuminate the simple, yet tasteful surroundings of his apartment and he wasn't a fan of electricity in any case. The owl carrying his _Pheonix_ wouldn't arrive for another hour, so Severus set about making himself some coffee and pulled his latest set of notes towards him.

As he had said to Mrs Hartington days ago, he was already working on a theory that cauldrons made with certain properties of metal could enhance the effect of certain potions. For example, a combination of three particular properties of metal could heighten the effect of healing potions, and so on. It was complicated, and involved a lot of trial and error, mixed in with a little theory. But he had developed the _Recro Memoria_ potion. He could do anything now, probably. The book that the kindly old lady had lent him (he refused to think of it as 'giving' – he would not keep it from her forever) had been extremely useful when it came to the theory part, but there was more that he needed. And he felt that he might have to go abroad at some point to source the information for himself and fill in the small gaps in his own knowledge. Looking out again at the pouring rain as it took out its rage on the streets of London, Severus thought that going away might be just what he needed. No-one liked England in January, least of all him. And he was forty now. _Forty. _Time to start living, perhaps.

* * *

Hartington's Bookstore was as much a sanctuary as it had ever been as Severus slipped inside, out of the rain. Of course he had cast the necessary spells in order to keep himself dry, but nobody particularly liked walking in the rain. The familiar deep smell of books and learning filled his sinuses as he closed the door behind him and took a moment to cast his eyes around the small rows of bookshelves, each holding a different gem.

"Mister Snape," Mrs Hartington said happily, getting up from the stool she had perched herself on behind the counter. She did usually stand, never a one to be lazy, but her upper leg was recovering slowly and he had said himself that she needed to rest it.

"Mrs Hartington," he greeted back, a satisfied feeling settling within him as he saw how well she was recovering. "How is your leg?"

Henrietta gave him a smile, eyes twinkling in an annoyingly familiar way as she sat back down. "Fine, fine, my dear. I'll never be able to thank you and dear Hermione enough for the help you gave me." She smiled again, looking at him. But it didn't make Severus feel uncomfortable, like when some strangers stared at him in the street with fear, and occasionally, very occasionally, awe, in their eyes. But then, this kindly old lady who he had seen roughly twice a month for the past two years, and who leant him valuable books was hardly a stranger, was she? "She's a lovely girl, Hermione, isn't she? There was no call for her to help, but she was insistent on doing so. Stubborn as a mule – just like you, I suppose, my dear."

Severus frowned slightly at that, he wasn't particularly delighted at being likened to the Granger girl, but a small part of him had to admit they were both stubborn. But she was stubborn in an...annoying way. Too persistent, too insistent. Yes, that was it. However, he straightened his face out and gave a simple nod with a simple reply. "Yes." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "How is the potion for your rheumatism working? I have more with me now if you need it."

With a grateful smile spreading across her face, Henrietta sighed happily and stood up again, hobbling her way to a wooden door a few metres from her. It had always been closed, but Severus guessed that it led to some back-quarters or other. Not living quarters, because he knew Mrs Hartington lived a few streets away, but somewhere to sit perhaps, or a back storage room. The former was right, he realised, as she pushed open the door, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Following her through to the small, but comfortable looking room, Severus cast a glance around.

Two armchairs were placed around a small, round wooden coffee table on the top of which some books and notepads were scattered, along with a small glasses case and vial that he recognised to be his own Rheumatism and Arthritis Relief Potion. The confined space was cosy, but not stuffy in the way he remembered a lot of the Professor's offices at Hogwarts to be, and the walls, just like in the store, were completely covered in books. It was like a tiny haven of peace; Severus had never seen anything so simple, yet so ridiculously pleasing.

"It's not much – just somewhere I come and sit before opening up again for the afternoon," Henrietta told him, gesturing to the other armchair as she lowered herself into the one that looked more worn, as though she regularly used that one and not the other.

Severus nodded, his eyes still scanning across the titles of all the books that covered every available inch of wall space. It was amazing. "This is enough to last you a week, I can brew more if you need it," he said, handing her a paper bag that contained a few glass vials.

"Thank you so much, dear," Henrietta replied, taking the bag from him gratefully. "Now," she said, with the air of someone who was on a mission. It took Severus aback slightly and he began to wonder why exactly she had invited him into this personal reading room, with all its wonderful books and comfortable armchairs. Not stiff and high-backed like those ridiculous ones that had been at Malfoy Manor, but firm and soft, utterly comfortable. "I have the feeling you have something you want to talk to me about."

Severus blinked, momentarily surprised as he looked at the old woman sat across from him. That wise twinkle had returned to her eyes once again and for a split second, he wondered if she could read his mind. But that was impossible; his Occlumency shields were in place, just as ever. Old habits die hard. "And what makes you think that?" he asked, very carefully so as not to offend her. Because she was right, there were a few things he needed to ask her.

Smiling, Henrietta gave a small shrug and settled back in her chair, her wrinkled hands resting in her lap. "I've lived a very long time, my dear, I can tell when someone has come for more than just to give me a few potions, or buy an old book. So, what is it you want to ask me?"

Her face was so kind, so open and interested, that Severus decided to go ahead and do what he had never done before. He pulled out his notes and started telling her all about his research: what he had found out, what he still needed to find out, how he would go about it, what sort of books he thought would be useful. He told her everything, well, everything she needed to know in order to help him. And she listened. Commented occasionally, asked him questions every so often, but apart from that, she listened. No-one had truly done that in a very long time.

The atmosphere in the small room gradually turned into one of serious learning, of interesting information and two individuals, sharing their knowledge. For a few moments, it reminded Severus of his first days of teaching – back when he had actually enjoyed sharing his knowledge with other people and when the Slytherins at least had shown him some respect and been interested in what he had to say. It hadn't lasted long. Because then Lily had died, and suddenly nothing had mattered anymore. For the first time in a long while, Severus felt at ease, felt some kind of hope. This kindly old woman was great to talk to, to share his findings with, and even to offer advice. She mentioned a few books that he would be interested to get hold of – ones that she had never had chance to source herself before her husband died, but had an idea of their whereabouts. He felt that this new research could really take off, if he put in the time.

* * *

Hermione looked sadly at the clock, an exhausted sigh coming from somewhere within her. She was dressed up to the nines, it was growing dark outside and she was just waiting for Hestia and Hannah to arrive so they could get started with their girls' night out. But the truth was, Hermione simply wasn't in the mood. The apartment had still been silent and everything in it untouched when she returned home from work that evening – no sign of Carl even coming back to change after she had gone. Well, she guessed he had some spare Healer's robes at work but... Did he not even want to come back to try and apologise? Or, worse, did he want _her_ to apologise? Shaking her head, Hermione felt her blood boil inside her as she thought that there was chance that might be the case. Well it wasn't happening. Not this time, not ever again. She was tired of making excuses, tired of defending herself against him. He was supposed to love her, and love comes with trust. He didn't trust her. So why then, even though she hated what he had done with a vengeance, why was she still desperately wishing he would come home? She sighed again, closing her eyes in the wild hope that when she opened them again, everything would look different. It didn't. There was just an empty flat, and nothing but the ringing, eerie silence for company. He wasn't coming back tonight. Or any night, as far as she knew. He was gone.

For some reason, she felt like she should cry, but she couldn't. Her throat stung, like a red hot poker was being stoked down it, and there was a heavy lump at the back of her mouth that she simply couldn't swallow over. But she couldn't cry. There were no tears left after her weeping marathon the previous night, and now, she just felt blank. Devastated, despairing, confused, angry, empty...They all boiled down to this one apathetic mood that left her unable to cry or laugh. She hated him for this, for what he had done. But she still wanted him to come home.

* * *

_**That's all for now, folks! Hope it was alright, and there'll be more regarding the Carl situation very soon! I also promise that the tiny beginnings of HG/SS will start to spark off in the next two or three chapters. Thanks for reading, and pretty please, leave a review!**_

**_P.S - Another thank you to TheFatalIllusion for being so encouraging and a fantastic friend!_**

_**X =D**_


	13. Nothing Is As It Seems

_**First of all, I am really sorry about the lateness of this chapter. It's been delayed due to homework and things, but it's here now and I hope you like it! Thank you again for the kind reviews, enjoy reading!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. =D**_

_**Chapter 13 – Nothing Is As It Seems**_

* * *

It was dark outside, Severus presumed, but he couldn't really see from the small backroom in Henrietta's shop. He was still there whilst she stayed behind the counter, serving the customers that trickled curiously in and recommending books that they wouldn't have found without her say so. The confined, book-filled space was a special place, he had decided, and not one to be taken for granted. It was the perfect place for him to consult the books that he didn't have and develop his notes further. And what's more, Henrietta, as he had somehow started to call her over the past few hours, didn't mind at all. In fact she seemed rather pleased about having someone to talk to. He glanced up at the small clock that was balanced precariously on one of the bookshelves, in front of a thick copy of 'The Wizarding Feuds of Winchester' and was surprised to see that it was nearing eight o'clock. It was then that he heard, drifting in from the main body of the shop, a voice that he knew all too well. Frowning slightly and feeling surprisingly curious, Severus silently got up from the comfortable armchair and made his way to the door of the backroom.

"I just thought I'd drop in to see how you are quickly, and then I'll go and meet Hannah and Hestia. They're waiting for me in a Muggle pub a few streets away."

He watched Henrietta smile at the young woman on the other side of the counter. "There was no need for you to do that, my dear, I'm absolutely fine. Thank you for the thought. Now you go and enjoy your night out."

"There is need," she insisted with a small smile. "I just wanted to see how you were, and to say that I'll be back soon. I need some more books to read."

"I don't doubt it, Miss Granger," he said dryly, finally taking the opportunity to step out from his hiding place and watch, with something akin to amusement, the look of surprise as it crossed her face. As she turned to face him, Severus took in properly her attire, and had to admit that he did for a moment, feel his gaze linger on her for a few seconds more than necessary.

A simple black dress fell from her shoulders to above the knee, hugging her waist and flaring out slightly over her hips. It seemed to shimmer in the shop's candlelight and her hair also seemed to do the same thing, as though her head was surrounded by a glowing halo of soft curls. Unable to resist, Severus momentarily trailed his eyes along her legs, encased in black tights and looking longer than usual in a pair of sleek black heels. The effect was understated, but undeniable beauty. And he hated himself for the notion as soon as it had entered his head.

"There always seems to be more books that you 'need' to read," he eventually added, pointedly bringing his gaze back up to her face.

"And what's wrong with that?" she challenged, looking at him closely. She could have been fooling herself, and perhaps it was a lapse in her own concentration, but she could have sworn she had just caught him slowly looking her up and down just then. She inwardly shook her head. Ridiculous.

"Nothing," Severus replied curtly as their eyes locked in a silent battle, as though the first to look away lost some great title or reputation. "But as they say, Miss Granger," his lips curled up into the familiar smirk, "Curiosity killed the cat."

"No it didn't," she told him, wasting no time in her comeback. "Stupidity killed it. Curiosity was merely blamed."

"Is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

From her stool behind the counter, Henrietta watched this exchange between her two most valued customers with great interest. There seemed to be some unexplained, intense charge between the two of them that neither had noticed nor acknowledged. It was enthralling to watch, seeing how they both changed when talking to each other, than when they were talking to her. Almost as though they were both wary of each other, yet each of them was trying to outdo the other at the same time.

"Well then, Miss Granger, I suggest you get back to your night out. Unless you usually come to buy books dressed like that," he commented dryly, eyes flickering down her body once again, an action for which he inwardly reprimanded himself. The woman was an absolutely nuisance, for heaven's sake, who cared whether she was wearing a short black dress or not? Certainly not him.

Hermione swallowed, and it looked very much to him like she was swallowing some sort of comeback that she knew would only make him angry. He couldn't help but smile inwardly a little at the thought that she still felt the need to tip-toe around him, even though he was no longer her teacher anymore. "Goodnight, professor," she eventually said, with an edge of forced politeness to her voice. She then gave Henrietta a genuine smile and tucked an astray curl behind her ear. "I'll see you soon, Mrs Hartington." And with that, she left, without even bothering to ask why he was there in the first place. Severus watched her leave with a triumphant smirk on his face – there was a strange voice at the back of his mind, mysteriously whispering to him. Snape – one, Granger – zero.

* * *

The pub was quite crowded when Hermione entered, the bar surrounded by chattering Londoners, all enjoying a Friday night drink to finish off the working week. Weaving her way through a group of businessmen who had their eyes glued on the news items silently reeling on a television in the corner, Hermione glanced around the busy space for a glimpse of Hestia's raven hair or Hannah's strawberry blonde waves.

"Hermione! Over here," she heard Hestia call from behind her. Turning around, she spotted them tucked away into a booth, three glasses of red wine sat patiently on the polished table. The deep sense of apathy towards any emotion still seemed to linger over her like a grey cloud, heavy with rain, but she pushed a smile onto her face and made her way over to them.

"Hey," she said as she slipped into a seat across from Hannah. "How's Lucas?"

Hannah gave her a smile and sipped her wine. "He's great; I've left Seamus with some nappies and milk anyway, so let's just hope the house is still in one piece when I get back!"

Hestia laughed, and it took Hermione a moment to realise that she should follow suit. "I saw Snape again today," she told them as she picked up her drink and took a large gulp, the alcohol slipping easily down her throat.

"Really? What, is he stalking you now or something?" Hestia laughed freely, tossing back a straight curtain of hair. "Maybe he took a shine to you!"

Hermione's head whipped around to look at her friend with a look of disbelief. "You are unbelievable. How many of those have you had?"

Laughing again, Hestia rolled her eyes and took a drink. "Just this one, I'm only joking, Hermione. We all know that the old bat is incapable of anything like that."

"I'm with you on that one," Hannah agreed, leaning back comfortably in her seat. "I remember when Jennifer Gray was really upset because her uncle had died of Dragon-pox in Mexico, so she spent most of Potions crying instead of actually doing the work and he put her in detention!" She pointed a finger knowingly at the two of them. "I'm telling you, that man has no concept of compassion."

Hermione nodded, feeling slightly detached from the conversation now as she thought of the calm way he had tended to Mrs Hartington's injuries, his measured actions as he carefully healed her himself, so as to prevent the old woman from venturing to the hospital she disliked so much.

A murmur of agreement with Hannah's statement came from Hestia as she seemed not to notice Hermione's quiet mood. "Exactly. Besides, he'd have no chance against your gorgeous Healer boyfriend anyway. Carl would fight Merlin himself for you!" She nudged Hermione's arm affectionately. "Lucky you."

A sinking feeling suddenly plummeted in Hermione's stomach and she felt her eyes welling up again, the ability to cry suddenly returning at the sound of Hestia's statement. "I don't think he'd go quite that far," she mumbled, though Hestia didn't seem to hear her over the buzz of conversation filling the pub.

"How is Carl, anyway? I haven't seen him in a while, we should all go for a drink together one night," Hestia told her with a smile as she continued to drink her wine and Hermione quickly began to think that maybe the night out hadn't been such a great idea after all. Her eyes were stinging from the prick of tears that pushed against her lashes, desperate to fall, but she refused to let them. No-one else knew anything about the other side of Carl; they just saw the caring, attentive part. But she knew the whole package all too well, and she loved it. Just not like she used to... A feeling of confusion began to flood Hermione's mind as she pondered over what to say in response. She was becoming very quickly aware of the fact that Hestia and Hannah were waiting for an answer, but she had absolutely no idea what to say to them. She wasn't even sure what she felt herself, let alone what she was going to do. A prickle of sweat began to break out over the back of her neck as she panicked, feeling her stress levels rising.

"He's fine..." she eventually said, the response coming out much quieter than she had intended. At their concerned frowns, she added, "At least, I hope he's fine. I haven't seen him since last night." An ache ripped its way through her heart as she uttered the last few words of her sentence, as though admitting it meant that it was all true. This was no bad dream, no tiny glitch, this was real...and she was scared.

* * *

"Oh God, Hermione," Hestia sighed, her expression going from concerned to worried. The look on her friend's face was distant, as though she'd rather be in anyone's shoes but her own. But, surely it couldn't be that bad? "What happened? Please tell us."

Struggling with the burning ache that was spreading from her heart to her veins, Hermione fixed her eyes on a mark on the table, her eyes boring into it as though the whole world would fall down around her if she was to lose concentration. "We had an argument, worse than usual...and he stormed out," she told them, fully aware that her voice was coming out as no more than a pathetic mumble. She really didn't want to be talking about this when really, she had no idea what she felt or thought. There hadn't been any time to work that out yet; she needed to speak to Carl, but she could hardly turn up at St. Mungo's and drag him back home, could she?

"Worse than usual?" Hannah questioned, leaning forward onto the table, the mood over the group growing steadily more and more serious. "What on earth do you mean by that? I thought you and Carl barely ever argued."

"Yeah, that's what everybody thinks," Hermione spat bitterly, knowing that it was hardly Hannah's fault, but who could blame her for snapping? "They just look at us and call us the golden couple, but we're not," she continued, anger seeping into her frail voice as the other two women listened in a mild state of shock. "They don't see what else goes on, or what we're both like behind closed doors. They have no idea about how..."

"How what?" Hestia asked, the question jumping from her lips like lightning. "Hermione?"

"How I have no idea what to do!" Hermione suddenly snapped, her hand coming down onto the table as she snatched her gaze away from the mark it had just covered up. "How I'm absolutely terrified of doing _anything _about it!"

"Hermione," Hestia said quietly as she worriedly placed a hand on her friend's arm. She had never seen Hermione look this upset before, or sound so utterly lost. It was a completely foreign situation to her, and one that she didn't like a bit. "What's going on? What's happened with you and Carl? Just a week ago you were all fine, and now..."

"And now I'm scared," Hermione interrupted, eyes flashing with rage. All her pent up emotions had burst out from under the cloud of apathy and sprung free through her veins, somehow translating into anger. A tiny voice at the back of her mind was telling her that now was not the time or the place, but she couldn't help it. The words kept tumbling furiously from her lips and though she knew that neither Hestia nor Hannah were to blame, it felt good to vent, for some reason. Her fury towards Carl and the whole situation had her entirely wrapped up in the moment, like an unstoppable hurricane.

"I'm bloody scared! I'm scared of staying, I'm scared of leaving. I'm scared of seeing him again; I'm scared of never seeing him again. I'm scared of standing up to him, but at the same time I'm scared of sitting by and letting him say and do what he wants." Taking a deep breath, Hermione felt the tears finally break free from their prison and splash onto her cheeks, but she ignored them. "I'm absolutely terrified of ending it, but I hate the thought of carrying on the way we are. I'm scared to be alone, I'm scared not to be alone...I'm scared of making a mistake and ruining the relationship, but I'm scared of carrying on down a dead-end end street too...I just have no idea what the hell to do!"

Hermione was sobbing by this point, her damp face buried in her hands, propped up on the table. Her voice had broken as she angrily listed everything that was making the situation such a mess and raging war within her heart and mind. Both Hestia and Hannah just stared at her, completely shell shocked at this new revelation. It seemed that nothing was ever what it looked like anymore. "And you know the worst part?" Hermione asked brokenly, briefly lifting her head up to gaze helplessly at Hannah. "I _hate_ that I'm scared. I'm Hermione Granger for God's sake, I helped defeat Voldemort! So why the hell am I so terrified by _this? _No-one should be able to make me feel so terrified, it just makes me feel weak. I _hate _it."

* * *

_**Sorry for the angst in this chapter, but it's got to be done before anyone can move on or Carl can be confronted! I hope that last part isn't too unrealistic, please tell me if you don't think you can see Hermione feeling/saying those sorts of things. Obviously I've never been in the situation before, so I'm trying my very best to empathise and draw on other people's situations. I hope it's okay and please leave a review!**_

_**X =D**_


	14. Burning A Mould

_**Thank you all for your encouraging reviews last chapter! And thanks especially again to Moewe – No, I'm sorry to say I didn't invent the 'stupidity killed the cat, curiosity got blamed' retort, but I wish I had! It's a pretty common comeback, I think, but not everybody knows it. I think some people (me included) get sick of being told off for merely being curious about something! **_

_**Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope it's all okay and please keep the feedback coming! **_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, the characters involved, or settings and places, blah, blah, blah...=D**_

_**Chapter 14 – Burning a Mould**_

* * *

Hermione fell asleep shivering that night, knowing that her shuddering limbs had nothing to do with the temperature. Her apartment was magically heated, and it was perfectly warm and snug under her thick duvet. The taste of red wine still lingered on her tongue, along with the bitter taste of salt from her tears and a stale dryness that she could find no explanation for. Hannah and Hestia had left with worried expressions after spending an entire two hours trying to get everything out of her and insisting that she should get help if she needed it. But they didn't understand. Or maybe that was too harsh; it wasn't that they weren't trying their best to understand, it was that they couldn't. They couldn't possibly understand the indecision and confusion that was wreaking havoc with her brain, because they had never been anywhere near a situation like hers. She didn't need help. She needed answers. What would any sort of help do anyway? It wasn't like Carl had ever been physically abusive, or had forced her to do anything she didn't want to. There was nothing any sort of authorities could do, and neither did she want this to go anywhere near that far. If there was one thing she hated, it was making a mountain from a molehill. Though she knew that perhaps this was nearer to the size of a hill...but the sentiment still applied.

Hestia's final words to her before she left wove themselves into Hermione's dreams, drifting between the blurred and shifting images of Carl, a bottle of red wine, and a door, quivering in its frame.

_Don't do anything that you know will be bad for you._

Not the most poetic of words, true enough...but there had been something serious, something imploring in Hestia's tone of voice that had made Hermione nod silently back, before closing the door and crawling to the safety of her bed.

* * *

The front door to Hermione's apartment opened slowly, the bottom of it gliding smoothly across the laminate flooring as early morning sunlight poured in through the east-facing window and across the living room. A dark grey cloak was dropped quietly onto the cloak-stand as its owner made his way towards the bedroom door, carefully listening out for any signs of movement.

"Hermione," Carl said quietly, approaching her bedside as he cast his gaze over her sleeping form. She was laid on her side, the covers bunched up in front of her as she buried her head into the duvet. He watched her for a moment to see if she would wake-up, but there was nothing. "Hermione," he said again, slightly louder this time as he sat himself on the end of the bed.

Jerking awake at the feel of someone's weight on the bottom of the mattress, Hermione sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open and glancing furtively around. But as soon as they settled on the cause of her awakening, her face grew wary and she could have sworn she felt herself move back towards the headboard just a little way. "Come back, have you?" she asked, all traces of sleepiness vanished from her tone. She raked her eyes over his crumpled clothes – the same ones he was wearing two nights before. "Where the hell did you go?"

Carl glanced down, with something akin to guilt and sheepishness written all over his face. It triggered no feelings of pity within Hermione – he had every reason to feel guilty. "Nowhere really...got hammered after I left, winded up sleeping in my office last night."

"And you didn't even bother to come back and try to talk?" Hermione challenged, looking at him with cold eyes. She refused to be disrespected any longer; this wasn't fair. It was time to stop taking it lying down. It was hardly the sort of thing a war hero was supposed to be doing. He had made her like this – weak – and despite everything, she hated him for that.

"What is there to talk about?" Now it was Carl's turn to feel confused. "We had an argument, it happens to everyone. You knew I'd come back."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. How could he be so...so...Letting out a small noise of frustration, she realised that there weren't words to describe the way he was being. She looked at him, wondering what on earth she had ever seen in that self-important face, twisted with indignation and arrogance. There was nothing there anymore, nothing that made her want... "No I didn't."

"What?" He looked like someone who had only just tuned into the radio and didn't understand what the DJ was talking about.

"I didn't know you were coming back," she told him firmly, trying desperately not to lose her temper. She doubted that shouting at him, whilst dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt would have any effect on his understanding of the situation whatsoever. "You just turned your back on an argument that _you_ created and stormed out on me. How the hell was I supposed to know where you'd gone, or if you were ever coming back or not?"

Frowning, Carl shifted closer to her, but it only made her shrink further back towards the headboard. "Of course I was coming back, I just needed to clear my head...I love you."

A bitter expression twisted its way onto Hermione face as she stared at him. His face was hard, the once turquoise eyes now an ice cold, angry shade of blue. "Do you?" she asked him, disdain laced through her voice. In that moment, if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that he was lying. He didn't love her. Whatever he still thought they were, it wasn't two people who loved each other. And what was more, there was no sinking feeling in her stomach anymore. No massive iron lump in her throat and no freezing whirlwind making a wreckage of her heart. She knew what she had to do now.

"Of course I do," Carl told her, moving closer as he ignored her obvious want to have him as far away from her as possible. "Hermione, we had an argument, it isn't the end of the world. Please, I want to be with you forever. I want us to get married and have kids, I could work my way up the ranks at the hospital so you wouldn't ever have to work again. You could stay at home; we'd get a house obviously, and move out of London, so you could look after our children and have the perfect family life. A bit of peace after everything we've been through. That's what you want."

Hermione was shocked. And angry. No, actually, she wasn't angry. She was _furious._ Before she could even think, she felt her hand connect with his cheek, the loud thud of skin against skin resounding through the room as she left a stinging red mark on the side of his face. "_No_," she seethed, venom dripping from her voice in a way that made him quite quickly wake up to the anger pulsing through her veins. Her face was enraged, eyes boring into him as though to drill holes through his very skull. "That's what _you_ _want_ me to want. And quite frankly, Carl, I'm fed up of doing what you want me to do. And I have no idea what's made you the way you are, but I'm _tired_ of putting up with your paranoid interrogations. I'm _tired_ of being accused of cheating on you or doing God knows what. I'm _tired_ of you always acting like I've done something wrong, or severely insulted you. I'm _tired_ of you switching this supposed 'love' on and off whenever it suits you. And you know what?" She shook her head at him, hot, angry tears building up behind her irises. "I am _so sick_ of you telling me what I should want, what I should do, who I should talk to, what to be, how our future should be! I don't want it anymore! And I don't think I ever did!"

"You never wanted me?" Carl asked sardonically, his voice turning just as cutting as hers, but without the pain and emotional injury that ran beneath every word Hermione spoke.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head again in disbelief at him. "Of course I did, Carl. Otherwise we wouldn't even be here," she told him. "But you started building up all this stuff that we were going to do, what I was going to be and how I wasn't going to work and do all that _shit_ that was your idea of the perfect life! And I don't want it! Because actually, you never actually saw _me _and what _I_ wanted. You just tried to mould me into whoever it was you wanted me to be in your head, and when I didn't conform, you accused me of every sin in the book." Leaning back against the headboard, Hermione let out a long, calming breath. Because everything was falling into place now, everything suddenly made sense and she knew that was she was saying was the truth. "And quite frankly, Carl," she said, completely confident now, "You can go find someone else to shove and manipulate into shape, because I don't want to be your little toy anymore."

Carl stared at her for a few long, excruciatingly silent seconds. Pure rage flashed in his eyes and for a microscopic moment of time, Hermione thought he was going to do something dangerous. "You're breaking up with me?" he asked, as though she had just told him she was going to send a bullet through his temple.

"Yes. So get off my bed, and out of my apartment," Hermione told him viciously, getting out of bed to storm over to the door and pull it wide open.

Carl's lips curled upwards into the most vindictive, vicious smirk that she had ever seen and once again, Hermione had to question why on earth she had ever found him attractive. "You're actually throwing me out."

"Yes," Hermione hissed, beginning to lose her patience. "Now do it before I actually hex you out of here and into next week."

* * *

Carl sighed and the spiteful expression on his face smoothed out into one of forced neutrality. "You don't know what you're doing," he said, getting up and walking over to face her. "Please don't do this, Hermione."

She ignored the softer tone to his voice, the plea that was in his eyes. Because like everything else, it had been a lie. _Don't do anything that you know will be bad for you. _Going back on what she had said most definitely would not be good for her, she knew that. "I do know what I'm doing, Carl. I'm ending it. Now please, just go," she said firmly, her voice devoid of any emotion as he stared at her for a few more seconds and then walked past her.

Just as he reached the front door, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the bedroom properly. "Who was she?" she called after him, just as his hand went out to rest on the door-handle. Her tone was demanding. "The woman you were trying to make me into. I want to know. Who was she?"

She watched as Carl paused, his body tensing as he looked back at her briefly. "Goodbye, Hermione," she said simply, with no semblance of pleasantness to his voice. With that, he opened the door, walked out and shut it behind him for good.

* * *

_***Bites lip and prays to God that it was alright!* Again, I really hope this was realistic enough and you'll have to tell me if you don't think it was. Thank you for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	15. The Difference Between Want and Need

_**Thank you for the reviews last chapter, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Here's the next chapter anyway and please keep the feedback coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter...or do I? *evil grin***_

_**Chapter 15 – The Difference Between Want and Need**_

* * *

"Bastard," Hermione angrily muttered to herself for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She had dressed quickly as soon as Carl had left, viciously tugging her clothes on as though trying to rid herself of any memory to do with him. She wanted to wipe him clean from her life, as if he was an unpleasant stain that she wished had never been rubbed in. All that was running through her head was a violent, victorious feeling that said she was finally rid of a problem, but underlying that was still the emotional pain that dragged on her heart. In that moment she felt delighted – free of that dissatisfied niggle and free from him, but Hermione knew deep down that eventually that would subside and the emotional injury would resurface again, bringing with it the insult she felt at being so corroded and worn away by a mere man. But she was stubbornly trying not to concentrate on that.

Right now she was wrapped up in an angry whirlwind of triumph, a fiery gladness surging through her veins at the fact that he was gone. She had stood up to him and thrown him out, after struggling for months with his vicious mood swings and bouts of insane jealousy. Whoever the woman he had been trying to manipulate her into as though she was play-doh was far from her thoughts, whoever the fool was. Hermione couldn't care less. At least that was what she was insistently telling herself.

* * *

Hestia's head shot up from her work as Hermione entered the office. Frowning at the hard-set look on her friend's face and almost angry vibe that rolled off her as she walked, Hestia leant forward and called out. "Hermione?"

She turned, a smile spreading across her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. But that wasn't what worried Hestia. What worried her was the flicker of annoyance that crossed Hermione's face when she couldn't make her smile look genuine, as though she felt like some great failure for messing up a leading role in a play. The contrast between the general vibe surrounding Hermione compared to the one around her mood last night was significantly different. "Morning," she said, stepping forward a little way towards Hestia's office.

Getting up from behind her desk, Hestia approached Hermione, still trying to figure out why Hermione seemed to be acting so forcibly confident, as though she was on some kind of rage-induced high. "Are you okay, Hermione?" she asked inquiringly, still peering at her friend's face. "You don't look it."

"Don't I?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised. "Well I am. I'm great." She raised both eyebrows openly, her arms crossing over her chest. "I'm fantastic, in fact." There was no semblance of sarcasm in her voice, yet Hestia couldn't help but frown.

"Well...just last night you were in pieces. What's happened?" Hestia asked quietly, not wanting to broadcast Hermione's personal life right across the office.

Hermione's face looked robotically devoid of emotion when she spoke next, her tone neutral as though she'd purposefully decided to just completely shut down. "I broke up with Carl this morning."

Silence followed her words as they rung in Hestia's ears, causing her to pause for thought. "Well, personally I think that's great..." she told her slowly, trying to choose her words very carefully. "But, aren't you a little upset? You were with him for a long time, it's okay to be disappointed that it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to."

"I'm not disappointed," Hermione told her indignantly, though even she could see the lie through her own bravado. "It was time to finish it; I realised that this morning when he started going on about what _he_ wanted again. It suddenly clicked that not once in our relationship had he ever been bothered about asking me about _my_ aspirations and _my_ ideas about life."

Hestia raised a sceptical eyebrow and nodded towards her office, ushering Hermione in and shutting the door. "That's probably true, Hermione, and of course it was the right time to end things. But it's still a bit unnatural to be completely fine with the whole thing."

"But I am fine!" Hermione protested, pushing an air of exasperation into her tone. "I'm single again, free to do what I want, and I want to get on with my work," she told Hestia stubbornly. "Why all the questions?"

"Because," Hestia sighed, leaning back against her desk, "I know that you're not really completely fine with all this. I've known you for four or five years now, Hermione, and I can tell when you're acting and when you're not."

"I'm not acting!" Hermione retorted again, sounding a little too insistent for anyone to believe she meant it. "Really, Hestia, I'm fine." She looked down at the floor. "I just want to get on with my work."

Staring at her for a moment, Hestia contemplated her friend and sighed. "Take the day off," she finally said, causing Hermione's head to shoot up in protest.

"What?"

"Take the day off," Hestia repeated, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of finality.

Sighing in annoyance, Hermione glared at her slightly and shook her head. "No, I don't want to. Hestia, I don't need the day off, stop worrying about me. I'm fine! Just let me get on with my work, I've got stuff to do."

"You haven't got anything to do that won't wait a day, Hermione. Hell, it'll wait two or three days considering the rate you work at! I'm telling you to take a day off, and that's an order, not a request."

Dropping the indignant, protesting expression, Hermione instead began to frown at her friend, utterly confused at this turn of events. This morning after Carl had left she had been so convinced. She was going to go into work, and pick up the usual regime of her life before Carl ever even happened. She was going to prove that she didn't need him and that she was right to do what she did; why was Hestia getting in the way? "Hestia," she said firmly, "I don't _want_ to take the day off."

Hestia shrugged, knowing in her heart that Hermione was not fit to work that day. She was in a certain state of shock, which she had somehow, yet understandably, translated into a profound happiness and confidence in the situation. But soon, late that afternoon probably, the effect would wear off and the whole thing would come crashing down on her. Hestia knew from experience. There was no doubt in her mind that Hermione had done the right thing, but that didn't mean she wasn't upset or disappointed about it. "Hermione," she sighed, trying to make her listen to reason. "Please, just take the day off. You might say you don't want it, but you sure as hell seem like you need it. We can cope here for a day without you, and if you're really that stressed about getting the interview with Snape written up, you can always do some at home."

The two fiery women stared defiantly at one another for a few moments before Hermione eventually let out an exasperated sigh and uncrossed her arms. "Fine," she huffed, making her way over to the door. "But I'm coming back in tomorrow."

A smile spread across Hestia's face as she pulled Hermione into an unexpected hug. "Thank you," she said. "I'll come and see you later once I've finished here and we can talk, okay?"

Hermione nodded grudgingly and returned the hug. She knew Hestia was only trying to be nice and look out for her, but really, she was fine. Carl was gone. So? She wasn't bothered. Despite the small voice buried at the back of her mind that was telling her she was.

* * *

Severus was surprised to find himself back at Henrietta's as soon as possible that morning. There were still some books that he thought might hold the information he needed, and of course, there were questions to ask the elderly shop owner about where in the world there was knowledge and history of the sort of research he was trying to complete.

"Severus," Henrietta said brightly as he entered, a black notebook tucked beneath one arm. "I had a feeling you might be coming back. Feel free to go through," she told him with a broad smile, gesturing to the door that led to the small, heavenly backroom full of books. "How about I bring you a nice strong coffee through in a minute too, dear?"

Pausing for a moment, Severus suddenly contemplated Henrietta's kindness. What had he ever done to encourage this? There was no need for her to offer him free use of her backroom whenever he required it, absolutely no call for her to make him cups of coffee and happily answer his questions. Except for the fact that she wanted to. But why? Why on earth would she want to be kind to a sneering, sarcastic, ex-death eater and spy like him?

Noticing that Severus had just stopped in the middle of the shop, Henrietta frowned and asked, "Is there anything wrong, dear?"

Severus jumped ever so slightly, but not so that anyone could notice his little slip, and looked at her. For a moment, he could have sworn he almost felt the tug of a smile on the corner of his so usually straight-set lips. "No, not at all," he replied, sounding decidedly pleasant. Then, he added, "Thank you."

Henrietta's smile spread wider and it truly hit Severus that she was doing this because she wanted to. Not because she felt sorry for him, or had any kind of ulterior motive. It was because she wanted to. And that, that was very strange indeed. But then, what was that old Muggle saying that Dumbledore had always muttered on about? Never look a gift horse in the mouth – that was it. "It's no trouble, dear. It's nice to have someone who's interested and will talk properly to me; not many people do that anymore. You and Miss Granger, you're the same in that respect; though I get the feeling that you might not like me saying so..."

And there it was again, that annoyingly familiar twinkle in the depths of her eyes, surrounded by tiny wrinkles and crow's feet. Rather than arguing her point, Severus just gave a nod that might and might not have been a gesture of agreement, and slipped into the tiny backroom.

* * *

_**I apologise if this chapter doesn't seem quite up to scratch, I wrote quite a large part of it when I was pretty tired, but I hope on the whole it's alright and that you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_

_**P.S – It may look now like we've seen the end of Carl, but I'm not quite that partial to letting go of a character I made up that easily. There will eventually be more on his background and the reasons for his actions – because I think every villain must have a cause, no matter how small. But that's all I'm saying – I'm not saying when, or how, because that would be telling! ; ) **_


	16. Things Left Unappreciated

_**Hi, thanks as ever for the lovely reviews. You all make me feel really lucky, to be honest! Anyway, here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, never have and never will. =D**_

_**Chapter 16 – Things Left Unappreciated**_

* * *

It wasn't until Hermione had stepped outside the _Phoenix _offices that she realised it was raining. Ice cold water was pelting down from the skies, hitting her face like daggers and numbing her skin. And what was more, she simply couldn't find the motivation to rush back into the nearest place of shelter, or cast a water-repelling charm. Hermione just stood there, staring disdainfully at the sky - heavy with grey clouds - and began to seriously regret not going straight back to bed after Carl had left. The saying was true – some days, you just shouldn't get out of bed. Why the hell had she even bothered going into work, what was the point? Deep down, she had known that Hestia would tell her to take a day off, regardless of the fact that she just wanted to get on with something completely unrelated to her own life and problems. But then, who was she kidding? Certainly not Hestia...and definitely not herself. She wasn't happy, despite the smile she had tried to force onto her face that morning. She wasn't ecstatic at the fact that her relationship with Carl had pretty much been a complete waste of time. And she certainly wasn't confident that life would be brilliant without him. Hermione was no Seer, not that she particularly believed there was many of them around anyway, and she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do with her life next. Carry on, she supposed. What else was there to do? She had a job, after all, and good friends. She had everything she had had before Carl turned up, so why weren't they enough after he had left too?

The loud crackle of thunder jolted Hermione from her thoughts and made her quickly aware of the rainwater pelting into her hair, running from the ends of her curls in a steady stream of droplets and soaking her cloak through. Shivering against the icy water and harsh wind, Hermione ducked down a covered side alley and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to order her thoughts. Running around and around in circles, wondering what the hell was happening to her was going to get her nowhere; she was practical enough to be aware of that. But where was she supposed to go now? An oddly grim, apathetic feeling gripped her at the thought of returning to her apartment, yet at the same time, she wondered where else she was supposed to go. Thinking back to when she had broken up with Ron, Hermione remembered that the first person she had run to for comfort was her Mum. Though those were completely different circumstances and that had been, just, well...different, entirely.

When she and Ron had gone their separate ways, there had been no raw, aching hole in her chest. There had been no dragging feeling of uselessness within her, or any disappointed, raging thoughts inside her head. This time, she felt all of those things, and more. The worst thing was, Hermione decided, that he had made her feel like a fool. And she wasn't one, not by half – she knew that. But she still felt like one. She had believed, genuinely believed, that he was perfect for her. That they would work through their occasional arguments and everything would be fine. But that had been months ago. Carl had steadily got worse – more distant, more accusing, more argumentative. And unlike before, the bad periods to their relationship had started to become longer than the good periods. Before, it was the arguments that were unfamiliar. But more recently, it had been the nice times that were infrequent. And now she knew why.

There was someone else. The guilty look on Carl's face as she had asked him who the other woman was had been one of a convicted man. Hermione told herself that she didn't care who she was, or how they had met. She said to herself time and time again that she didn't give a damn how long it had been going on or how it had happened, just that she, whoever she was, was welcome to him now. But she was lying to herself. Of course she cared; of course she gave a damn. Over all her stubborn insistences to herself, curiosity had won out and she wanted to _know_. Wanted him to look her in the eyes and tell her who it was he had been trying to make her into, who it was that was so perfect that she couldn't possibly compare. But at the same time as the hurt, and the injury and the rejection...Hermione was confused.

Carl never really went anywhere. He had spent most of his time with her, and the rest of it at St. Mungo's, doing his job. And she knew he had always gone to work because he got paid the right amount, and there were never any complaints about him not being there, or being late. He would never have been promoted to a Healer if that wasn't the case. So, the question truly playing on Hermione's mind was _'how?'._ How had this happened, when had it happened? To her mind, there simply hadn't been time... Hermione stopped, swallowing loudly. Unless this mystery woman worked at the hospital too, in which case he had the perfect alibi...

But no, she didn't need to be thinking like this. She didn't need to be thinking about it at all. Shaking her head as though trying to rid herself of any thoughts related to Carl, Hermione took a deep breath and wiped away at the tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyelashes. She had decided to not even go there. Firmly telling herself that really, she didn't _want_ to know, Hermione glanced out at the still pouring rain and sighed. There was no use in wasting more time on him, on even thinking about him. There was just no point.

All there was now, was the small matter of where to go. She couldn't go to Australia to see her Mum, at least not yet. For some reason, Hermione just didn't feel like she could face that yet, not to mention it would be practically the middle of the night there now. So, she settled on the next best thing, concentrated hard on not leaving any limbs behind in her upset state, and disapparated.

* * *

Leaning forward to place yet another heavy, dusty book on his 'useful' pile, Severus let out a contented sigh and took a sip of the coffee Henrietta had made him just a few minutes before. In the last hour or so, he had managed to skim through a good number of books that he was sure would contribute to his research, and in all honesty, it was fascinating. Truly and simply unbelievable. His black notebook was already half-full with tidily written and organised notes, referring to some book or another that he had placed in front of him. Looking at the coffee table that occupied most of the floor space in front of him, Severus made a mental note to make sure he tidied all the books away before he left. Leaving the table so that Henrietta couldn't even see the top of it was hardly polite or the respectable thing to do. At that moment, it was covered by an assortment of books and articles, sorted into different piles that only he understood the method of. Henrietta had peered in once or twice throughout the course of the morning, but had found him bent double over one heavy tome or another and had left him happily to it.

"So," he heard her familiar voice behind him. "How are you doing?"

Severus turned to watch as Henrietta smiled at him and slowly lowered herself down into the other chair, her interested gaze gliding over the books that littered her coffee table. "Very well, actually," he said, sitting up straight and pausing for a moment as his now aching spine straightened out a little. He should really sit up straight to read, rather than hunching over his notes. "So far, I seem to have narrowed down three metals with properties that can truly, I hope, give a significant change to a potion's effectiveness, healing potions in particular."

Henrietta nodded and brought her gaze up to look at him, her wizened face studying his with interest. "And they are?" she asked kindly with the gentle smile he was becoming accustomed to. "Or is it a big secret you can't tell me?"

Severus gave a twitch of the lips and shook his head as he reached forwards for his notebook. "So far, I've found a significant amount of information that points to copper, silver and gold as being the only metals potent enough to have any notable effect. But I'm going to have to do a lot more practical research in my lab to get any further, not to mention some travelling." He was surprised, really, about how easy it was to talk about his research to her. Usually, his work was a completely solo operation but this time...This time he had someone to bounce his theories off, someone how could contribute intelligently into the process and actually help. It was completely new, but not at all unpleasant.

"Well," Henrietta said, practically beaming at him now as she lifted her own cup of coffee to her lips. "I'm glad that all my old books have been of use to you, I was beginning to fear that they would never be fully appreciated again." She glanced away for a moment, eyes scanning over the many bookcases that lined the walls. "That's a sad thing, don't you think?" she said to him, looking more serious now. "Books that are left unappreciated..."

"Yes," Severus replied with a nod, picking up his coffee again and thinking about a lot of other things that were left unappreciated. "I think anything left unappreciated is a sad thing, don't you?"

She looked at him then with sadness, but an understanding sadness, in her eyes and gave him a small smile. "Yes, dear, I do think that."

* * *

_**And that's all for now, folks! Sorry to end it there, but it seemed appropriate. Just a few words to say about Severus' research – I'm not just getting all this from the recesses of my imagination. There are actually circles of people that believe that certain metals can have particular healing properties and from what I've skimmed on the internet, many theories are quite similar to the idea of Hippocrates and his four humours, in the sense that if you have an excess of one metal, then it means such and such could be wrong with you, or right with you, depending on what it is. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry for the long author's note at the end and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	17. What Friends Are For

_**Hi, I'm really sorry for the big delay with this chapter; my school-life suddenly got very hectic and I got behind on all my updates. I hope you can forgive me! Anyway, thank you very much for all your reviews, I love how a lot of you are trying to guess what's going on with Carl, but I'm sorry to say none of you have guessed correctly yet! Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it and please keep the feedback coming. **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. =D**_

_**Chapter 17 – What Friends Are For**_

* * *

It wasn't raining in Godric's Hollow when Hermione appeared there, her hair still damp and now slightly windswept from the apparation. Hoping that Ginny would be in, Hermione sighed and pushed open the gate to the Potter's front garden, wincing as it let out a slight, high-pitched creak.

"Hermione," Ginny said happily as she opened the door, quickly standing back to let her in. "Aren't you meant to be at work?"

"I'm supposed to be," Hermione replied, nodding and taking out her wand to cast a drying charm before she removed her cloak. "Hestia made me take the day off."

Ginny frowned a little, noticing the dull look in her friend's eyes and the faint grey rings beneath them. "Why, what's wrong?"

Swallowing, Hermione reminded herself again that she didn't care. It was for the best; she'd done the right thing. "I broke up with Carl," she stated, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. But to Ginny it just sounded wooden, as though the passiveness in her voice was so forced that she sounded detached. "It was getting worse, the arguments...he just wanted what he wanted, and kept pushing and pushing..." Anger rose up inside her as the words tumbled from her mouth and Ginny stood there listening with a look of mild shock on her face. It felt good to vent, to reel everything off in one massive breath, just as she had in the pub with Hestia and Hannah.

"It was like I'm some sort of playdoh that he could just manipulate into shape, and I was fed up of it. You know how Harry always asks what you want, and how he always tries to do things so that you're happy?" She sighed, blinking angrily at the tears that were beginning to mist up her eyes. That was ridiculous, crying over him. She had nothing to cry about, she insisted again. "Well that's because he loves you, because he wants whatever you want. Carl didn't. He didn't love me, and he didn't want whatever I wanted. You know he actually accused _me_ of cheating on him?" Hermione took a deep breath, rage exploding inside her and bubbling up to the forefront as a tear dropped from the corner of her eye and rolled, unbidden, down her face. "When it was _him_ trying to mould me into some other woman who is _apparently_ so perfect I could never possibly compare!"

Ginny let out a small gasp before quickly pulling Hermione close in order to cover her tracks. Her voice was laden with hurt and rage-induced sarcasm and Ginny was genuinely surprised to see her lose control like that. Hermione was usually so measured, so calm in her reactions to the events around her, but now...she just seemed fuelled by anger, by hurt and by rage. Wrapping her arms tightly around her, Ginny pulled Hermione closer and just for a few short, weak minutes, Hermione allowed herself to cry. To properly cry over what had happened in the last few hours. She just let the tears roll down her cheeks, the hot moisture dampening her face and causing small sobs to erupt from within her like hiccups as Ginny rubbed soothing circles into her back. Deep down, Hermione knew it was good to cry, and that really, it felt as though all the hurt, disappointment and anger was seeping away with her tears, to some painful, yet relieving, degree.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said softly, conjuring a tissue for her friend. "I'll make us a cup of tea and we can talk. Teddy's with Andromeda today, but James is in the living room watching Muggle telly. It's some program about funny coloured people with TVs in their stomachs that Harry's got him and Teddy into, though I've no idea how it's interesting. They just go around eating toast and custard, not to mention there's one that has worryingly gay tendencies...he's purple, goes around with a handbag and has some strange name like Tinky-Winky. Ron thinks it's hilarious."

Ginny's confusion surrounding the children's TV show made Hermione let out a watery laugh as she wiped at her eyes with the tissue and tried for a weak smile. "The Teletubbies, you mean," she said, hearing the familiar cry of 'again, again!' from within the living room.

Nodding, Ginny smiled and led Hermione through to the kitchen where the kettle automatically began boiling and she caused two mugs to fly gracefully from the cupboards. "That's it," she said, glancing through the door to check her baby son was okay before turning her attention back to Hermione, who still looked utterly broken and worn out. "Come on then, tell me everything."

* * *

Lounging back on his couch, Severus frowned to himself, deep in thought. It was growing dark outside and he had left the quiet sanctuary of Henrietta's backroom around an hour ago before apparating home. Now, an array of her books was spread out on his coffee table – borrowed, of course. No matter how much Henrietta had tried in earnest to persuade him that she had no use of them anymore, he was insistent that she would get them back. He would let her allow him to use her backroom, yes. And to make him cups of coffee and tea, yes. He would even let her offer him advice and valuable knowledge of her own when she wanted to. But he would not take her books. Looking across at the many books he had stacked up on the table, Severus knew that some were simply priceless. Their fading and decaying old covers disguised a treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom that he knew would help him no end in his research, not to mention merely being interesting for interest's sake. But he would not take them permanently from her. Henrietta had scoured the furthest reaches of the world for some of these books when she was younger; she had put time and energy into locating and acquiring them. They were, if nothing else, a symbol of how her life had once been. Before her husband died, and before her daughter moved away to marry a Muggle, leaving her coping, but wishing that she could see more of the little girl that she brought up and watched grow into the mature adult she now was.

And there, Severus frowned again. She was a puzzle, Henrietta. Kind and measured, with a head full of knowledge and wit sharp as a knife...but then, she was also fiery, quick-tempered whenever he refused to let her bestow some overly benevolent act of kindness upon him, such as insisting he keep her books. And, if Severus hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that there was an ever so slight smile tugging on his lips as he thought of her. She was, dare he say it, like the mother he had never really had, or maybe the grandmother. But he would never, ever tell her...not even in a moment of rash gratitude. Besides, this astounding kindness and companionship wasn't just extended to him, there was Granger as well...

Now there was a problem. As soon as he thought it, the image was stuck in his head again. Ever since the previous night, it had been lurking at the back of his mind, haunting him like a persistent ghost that just wouldn't leave him alone. Why was she in his head? He had told himself over and over again that she was Hermione Granger. The know-it-all. The brain of the Golden Trio. His ex-student. And he was not attracted to her in any way, did not think her worth the pondering and the wondering. Which was true, he didn't think she was. But oh she had looked good in that dress, with slightly more eye makeup than usual and sleek, black heels.

"Know it all," he muttered firmly to himself, knowing he was right. So maybe he could admit that Hermione Granger had actually grown into something very nice to look at, but it didn't take away what was underneath. She was still there – that jumping eleven year old in his classroom, small whimpering noises coming from between her lips as she waved her hand manically in the air, desperate for him to let her spurt out her already recited and rehearsed answer. And that was that. It was gone – that glamorous, grown-up version of Granger – replaced by the one he knew well, the one he had sneered at with disdain for a good six years of his life. "Ridiculous," he muttered to himself for good measure, before reaching for one of Henrietta's books.

* * *

_**I've just tried to build on our two characters here, as well as adding some things in about Henrietta who we'll be seeing a lot more of soon. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review! I know this wasn't the longest update in the world, but I will try to make the next one much longer. I will also try my best to update a little sooner this time, although I do have two Chemistry Exams next week and an English Literature Essay...wish me luck!**_

_**X =D**_


	18. Easier Said Than Done

_**I know, I know! *holds hands up in surrender* I almost deserve to be shot for how delayed this update is. However, I'm afraid to say that this is something you might have to get used to because homework is really getting more intense now than at the beginning of the year. I am trying my best to update all my stories as soon as I can though, and I really hope you can forgive me! Anyway, I'll stop waffling and let you get on with reading the chapter now! Thank you as ever for your kind reviews too. **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter; if I did, I'd probably have the money to buy my qualifications, rather than work for them! Haha. =D**_

_**Chapter 18 – Easier Said Than Done**_

* * *

When Hermione got back to her apartment that evening, Hestia was already waiting outside the door for her. Pulling out her key, Hermione looked at her friend and tried for a smile. Her long and, she admitted, tearful, conversation with Ginny had done something to relieve the anger and devastation storming around inside her and now she felt...alright. Not ecstatic, not particularly happy, but not at a loss or completely confused and upset either. Just alright. No aching hole in her chest, no weight in the pit of her stomach, no hurt and rage coursing through her veins. Just...alright.

"How long have you been standing here?" Hermione asked as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door, gesturing for Hestia to follow her in.

"Not too long," Hestia said, pushing her hair back as she eyed her friend carefully. There was a slight red tint to her eyes, and the ghost of tear-tracks on her face, but overall she looked, in Hestia's opinion, okay. Better than she had that morning, and the night before, at any rate. "Where did you go?"

"I went to visit Ginny," Hermione told her, hanging up her coat and flicking the lights on. "Sorry I wasn't here, I just needed to..."

"Talk with someone?" Hestia finished for her, smiling gently as she opened Hermione's fridge for herself and took out a bottle of wine.

Hermione nodded and summoned some glasses over, her eyes scanning around the lounge area. There was still a scarf of Carl's and a few papers from the hospital he had been completing a few days previously; she sighed, remembering that at some point, she would have to contact Carl to tell him when it was okay for him to come and pick up his things. A deep feeling of reluctance spread through her at that point, she just didn't want to face him just yet. Hermione still couldn't get the image of his face out of her head, cold eyes tinted with guilt and expression unyielding as he placed his hand on the door handle, ready to walk out. Whatever he had been trying to do, she hadn't allowed it to work, which Hermione presumed was what had made him so frustrated and angry most of the time.

"How are you feeling now?" Hestia eventually asked, her voice careful as she handed Hermione a large glass of red wine and they both leant against the kitchen counters.

Pausing, Hermione took a mouthful of red wine and swallowed, her expression thoughtfully sad. "Okay...better than this morning, I think..."

"You were in shock," Hestia confirmed quietly, sipping at her own drink as she kept eye contact with Hermione. Sighing, Hestia gave her friend a sympathetic smile, trying to coax her to give one of her own. "We both know you did the right thing, and I can understand the confusion you must have felt about why it all fell apart...You needed a day off to clear things in your own head."

Hermione nodded sombrely, her eyes still remaining downcast. "I know, thanks...I do feel more...in control, I suppose. I still don't understand where it all went wrong though, we...I...I just don't see where and how there could have been someone else." A frown made its way onto her face, the same expression that she always wore when something was simply incomprehensible and she just couldn't stand it. "Whatever spare time he had, he spent it with me. I just..."

Shrugging slightly, Hestia let out another sigh and looked sympathetically at Hermione. "I don't know, Hermione. Sometimes you just never find out why, you just have to let it go."

Hermione looked up, the frown on her face replaced by a look of curiosity. "Is that what you did?"

The older woman looked a little taken aback, a small frown flickering across her face before she looked down into the depths of her wine glass, and then back up at Hermione. "What do you mean?"

"When Tony left...did you just have to let it go?" Hermione asked quietly, chewing awkwardly on her bottom lip. A silence descended on the room for a few moments and she quickly looked down at the floor, muttering, "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's okay," Hestia told her hurriedly, pushing a smile onto her face. "But yes, I suppose I did have to let it go. It took a while, but...in the end I just had to accept that for whatever reason, he had decided he had somewhere better to be." A suppressed bitterness had seeped its way into her tone as she spoke, her gaze looking distant for a few lapsed seconds. "But I'm fine now, see?" She smiled. "Got a job, a fiancé, some brilliant friends...What I'm trying to say is that it'll all work out, you just have to step far enough back to let it."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Hermione nodded, her gaze still set hazily on the floor. The floor tiles blurred before her eyes as her mind drifted someone else entirely, far away from her actual location and the conversation she was having with Hestia. She understood what Hestia was saying, she even agreed with it, but Hermione just couldn't see how it was possible. Just as Tony had decided there was somewhere better for him to be, Carl had decided there was someone better for him to be with...but who was she? Hermione knew that for at least the first few weeks, the only question that had been on Hestia's mind when Tony left was 'where?', and for her, the only question constantly fighting its way to the forefront of her mind was 'who?' . Who exactly was so compelling, so intriguing and simply perfect that she had caused Carl to become so detached and bored with her, and their relationship? Couples drifting apart, she could understand that. Differences of opinion getting in between two people, she could understand that. But what Hermione simply couldn't force herself to understand was how Carl had fallen so in love with someone else that he had no choice but to leave her, or mould her into the woman he probably couldn't have. And why the hell he had chosen the latter option. "It's easier said than done though," she eventually said, her voice quiet as she glanced up solemnly at Hestia.

Hestia just nodded in reply and took another mouthful of wine, letting it run over her tongue briefly before she swallowed it down. "Did he even say...?"

Hermione cut her off with a shake of the head and another exhausted sigh. "Nothing. I tried to ask him who she was and he just..." She frowned, remembering the tense, almost pained look on his face before he finally opened the door, the cold look in his eyes, "He just said goodbye and left."

"Come here," Hestia murmured, putting down her wine glass before pulling Hermione into a tight hug, trying to ease the look of hopeless defeat from her face. "If he didn't even have the courage to tell you who she was, then it's not worth losing sleep over. Forget him, and forget her, whoever she is." Moving back a little way, Hestia gently pushed the hair from her friend's eyes and gestured for her to finish the wine in her hand. "Look," Hestia said, levitating her own glass over to the sink and setting it to the task of washing itself up. "Take tomorrow off too. Get out, go somewhere, take your mind off everything."

Wiping quickly at her eyes to rid them of any possible tears, Hermione shook her head and obediently downed the rest of her wine. "I can't do that; this exclusive about the memory potion will never get finished in time."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Hermione," Hestia told her, rolling her eyes and charming Hermione's now empty glass to do the same as her own. "It's coming along brilliantly, in fact I'm pretty sure it'll be finished at least three days before the deadline. And if you're really that worried about writing up the interview, you can still do that here. We can cope one more day without you, so long as you actually go out somewhere and get away from all of this, okay?"

Hermione sighed and gave her boss and friend a weak, but grateful smile. "Yes, Ma'am," she replied, earning a small chuckle from Hestia. "Thanks, I'll go to Henrietta's, I – "

"Need some more books," Hestia finished for her with a laugh, hugging Hermione again. "That's more like it."

* * *

_**I apologise again for the delay, and the lack of Snape in this chapter! The next one will have plenty more, I promise. =D Anyway, thank you very much for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	19. Behind the Mask

_**Hi, thank you all very much for the reviews, and also for sticking with me, even though I'm not the most regular updater around. =D And just when I started looking forward to the Christmas holidays because I thought I'd have more time to write then, I got two bombshells dropped on my head: a massive maths exam worth forty percent of my GCSE that I know I'm going to fail, and a big Geography test...at this rate, I'll be spending Christmas Day revising! Anyway, enough of me whinging, I'll manage to get it all done and update, somehow! =D Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter and if I did, there would be a lot more Snape scenes in the movies than there are at the moment! Although I agree with you Moewe, that one scene with Severus in was fantastic...=D**_

_**Chapter 19 – Behind the Mask**_

* * *

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she stared up at the ceiling and wanted nothing more than to pull the covers back up over her head and fall asleep again. But she didn't. Instead, she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, relying fully on the powerful surge of the shower to wake her up completely. That was one thing she refused to lose; she had never been anything, if not determined. And if determination meant not allowing herself to laze around in bed, achieving a grand total of nothing all day, then so be it.

She stepped out of the shower twenty minutes later feeling significantly better and, she realised, ravenously hungry. Thinking back, she tried to remember the last time she had actually eaten and had to admit that it had been a while since she'd consumed a proper meal. Her stomach rumbled, making the decision for her as she pulled on some jeans and a warm purple jumper before making her way through to the kitchen and taking the bacon out from the fridge.

* * *

Up until about an hour before lunchtime, Severus Snape was having another good day. He was sat once more in the comfortable armchair in Henrietta's backroom – an armchair that had silently been declared as his by then – and the door to the shop was wide open so that Henrietta could come in and sit down when she pleased. It was a quiet day and so when there were no customers to attend to, the kindly old woman who he had quite surprisingly come to appreciate more than he could ever have imagined would come through to sit down with him. Sometimes to talk and ask more about his research, sometimes just to exchange a few words on general events, and sometimes to say nothing at all, to just sit in a companionable silence as he worked, and she rested. Silently, and unofficially, she had caused him to fall into a new daily routine – one that he enjoyed more than he cared to admit out loud to anyone. He would get up in the morning when he wished, have breakfast, skim _The Phoenix_ for anything of particular interest before paying a visit to the apothecary and then, spending a significant amount of the day in Henrietta's backroom. It was place where he, for the first time in a very long while, felt truly welcome and at home.

And it was at about an hour before lunchtime, that his day was disrupted in what was, he first thought, possibly the worst way possible. He heard her before he saw her, talking to Henrietta pleasantly as she probably browsed some shelf or other. Just to make sure, he put down his notebook and quietly stalked his way to the doorway, peering out silently in the way that only a true Slytherin could. And there she was. In all her Gryffindor bookworm glory but not, he noticed, dressed up to the nines anymore. In fact, there was a masked look on her face now that he couldn't quite put his finger on – some distracted sense of melancholy that seemed to cling to her expression, just very faintly.

He stepped out from his hiding place. "Back again I see, Miss Granger."

To his satisfaction, she jumped slightly, almost dropping the book in her hand. Collecting herself, she turned her head to look at him and nodded, doing her best to look entirely neutral, almost as though she was making sure there was nothing he could criticise about her. "Professor Snape," she said, before looking back at the heavy book in her hands and hoping he would go away. Henrietta had said she was going to make some more coffee – she should have guessed that Snape would be there. It seemed that he and the elderly shop owner knew each other quite well.

His lips curled up into a familiar smirk. "I'm assuming you've finished writing up your interview, if you've time to be buying yet more books for what I am sure is an extensive collection."

She fixed him with a confident stare and stood up straighter, trying to match his height but failing. He was almost a head taller than her and for one moment, with him standing so close and looking down on her like that, she was thrown back to her days as a student when all it took was a menacing glare from him to silence her. "It still needs some finishing touches," she said, almost daring him to question her, to tell her off for not finishing it sooner, as though it were an essay he had assigned to her. "Hestia's given me the day off."

Severus raised an eyebrow, doing nothing to alter the close proximity they were stood in. He could see the faintest of blushes beginning to creep across her cheeks, and he wondered what it would take to get her completely flustered. "Oh? Slacking, are we?" he asked, his voice a slow, calculating drawl.

"No," she retorted, a little more forcefully than she meant to. "I've been working from home; Hestia just thought I needed some time to..." She trailed off, suddenly remembering where she was and who she was talking to.

"Time to what, Miss Granger?" Severus inquired, his interest piqued. He watched curiously as she looked down at her feet, the book in her hands now held limply by her side.

"Nothing," she said quietly, looking back up and trying to turn away from him to return the book to its place on the shelf. But he was quicker than that, taking another step forward until there was nowhere for her to go, unless she wanted to sidestep away from him.

"I'm sure Miss Jones didn't give you the day off under the grounds of 'time needed to do nothing', Miss Granger," he said dryly, his lips curling up once again into a smirk as he watched the colour in her cheeks rise slightly. And he was even more surprised, rather than satisfied, when he heard her breath catch in her throat as he tilted his head questioningly a little way towards her. There was a pregnant silence hanging in the air and Hermione could have sworn the atmosphere had suddenly thickened, making it impossible to breathe properly. "Well?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It's..." She let out a low, staggered breath that only caused his curiosity, along with his smirk, to grow. "Personal," she eventually forced out, feeling both angry and annoyed. Angry because he had absolutely no right to intimidate her like this and force such information from her (she was the journalist, thank you very much), and annoyed because there was also absolutely no reason why her heart was thudding in her chest and why she was struggling to breathe properly. He was Severus Snape, ex-death eater, spy for the light, renowned potioneer and well, an out-and-out bastard, apparently. So why did it feel like the very bones in her legs were shaking and slowly turning to dust?

There was a pause, Severus' lip curling upwards again as she let out another staggered sigh that brushed his neck ever so slightly, sending a strange sense of shock down his spine. "I see," he eventually drawled before stepping back and watching as she let out a long sigh under her breath, looking very nearly relieved. He frowned slightly as she turned away, quite obviously on the pretence of browsing for another book as he ran through the last few minutes in his head. Interesting... Very interesting.

* * *

A kindly, familiar voice broke through both their thoughts, jolting them back into the present. "Is everything alright, dears? I've some coffee for you, Hermione, my dear. Do you want some more, Severus?"

As Hermione moved forwards to gratefully take the steaming cup of coffee from Henrietta, Severus' lips tightened and he began to move swiftly towards the door. "I'm going out for lunch," he said abruptly, opening the door before sweeping out, robes billowing behind him.

Henrietta stared after him, making a mental note to ask him what on earth was wrong with him later, but for now, she had more important issues to deal with. She turned back to Hermione and said, "I wonder what's got his wand in a knot." She smiled at the younger woman and moved over to the door to the backroom, beckoning Hermione in. "Now, my dear, what's the sad look about? What's happened?"

"How did you know?" Hermione asked quietly, still stood in the middle of the shop, feeling completely confused. Snape had left her feeling cold, but impossibly warm at the same time, and now Henrietta seemed to have picked up on the masked expression that still lingered on her face.

Henrietta gave her a soft, understanding smile. "I've seen that lost, heart-muddled look far too many times in my life. Come on now dear and tell an interfering old woman your troubles."

Not being able to help a small smile at her, Hermione nodded slightly and crossed the room, making her way into the small backroom that she had never noticed before. "It's Carl..."

"I'm listening, dear," Henrietta said softly as she lowered herself down into her armchair and gestured for Hermione to sit in the other one.

* * *

_**That's all for now, folks! :D Thank you very much for reading, I hope you liked it and please leave your thoughts in a review!**_

_**X =D**_


	20. The Right Thing

_**Hello again! I just want to thank you all for your reviews, not just for the last chapter, but generally. They really make my day and I feel so lucky getting your feedback and knowing that you're enjoying the story, so thank you! Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope you like it and Happy New Year!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, and I never will. Seems that's going on my list again for next year! :P**_

_**Chapter 20 – The Right Thing**_

* * *

The backroom at Henrietta's was warm, and comfortable, and interesting, and Hermione felt safe there. Running her eyes briefly along the book-lined walls, Hermione took in with astonishment the amount of books that Henrietta actually owned. Of course, she had seen the numerous books in the other backroom to the shop – the one actually at the back, with a door in plain sight and not hidden, built into the woodwork of the wall. But this...this was something else. Hermione was sure she had never seen so many books in such a small space; in that moment, she suddenly understood why even Severus Snape liked to spend so much time there. And more than anything, apart from warm, comfortable, interested and safe, Hermione felt...better. Much better. Better even than when she had told Hestia and Hannah. Because Henrietta hadn't just listened to what she had to say...she truly _heard_ it, felt it, empathised with it. Maybe even sympathised with it, Hermione didn't know. All she knew of Henrietta was that her husband had died years ago and her daughter was married to a Muggle. She had no idea what had happened in her life before that, apart from the travelling she used to do with her husband, scouring every corner of the globe for the next book.

"Dear," Henrietta said softly, reaching out to place her withered hand over Hermione's smooth, slender one and patting it caringly. Not patronizingly, the way Molly Weasley would sometimes, and not dismissively. Caringly. Like she honestly, truly understood. And that was what Hermione loved so much about the elderly bookshop owner that she had come to admire since using the store for the very first time. She _got it_. "You have to contact him, civilly, to allow him to take back his things. You can't reject him, but keep his possessions."

"I know," Hermione murmured, her distant gaze moving from the endless books to focus on Henrietta's kind, patient face. "But I don't know how and I'm...I don't want to know if he's with _her _again yet..."

Sighing softly, Henrietta sat back in her chair again and smiled understandingly. "I know Hermione, dear, but there are some things in this world that you just have to face. If things are to come to an end, they must be ended properly. The same way if things are to start, they must be started properly."

Hermione sighed and returned the smile, knowing in her heart of hearts that she was right. "I'll send him an owl tomorrow, and..." she smiled a little wider, "Thank you, so much, for listening to me and letting me ramble on about myself. I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time, or bored you."

"Not at all, Hermione, dear!" Henrietta exclaimed, her bright blue eyes lighting up as she laughed and patted her hand again. "Don't be ridiculous. What else is a wise old woman here for, if not to sell books and listen?"

Hermione smiled and stood up, pulling her bag up over her shoulder as she took out a few galleons and a handful of sickles. Henrietta stared at the money in confusion as she handed it to her. "It's for the books," Hermione explained, nodding to the small pile she had placed on the counter that she had been intending to buy before Snape had come out to speak to her.

"I see," Henrietta said as she stood up herself and made her way through to the shop and behind the counter. "Well at least let me put them in a bag for you, dear."

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the bag of books from her and smiling gratefully. "For everything."

"You're welcome any time, my dear," Henrietta told her as Hermione made her way towards the door. "Any time at all."

Nodding, Hermione placed her hand on the door handle and paused, looking back at the old woman who seemed to be as wise as Dumbledore himself. "Henrietta?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"Yes, my dear?" Henrietta looked up at the serious face of the younger woman.

"I did do the right thing, didn't I?"

A gentle smile graced Henrietta's wrinkled face as she gave a single nod, shifted a few books on the counter and looked back up at Hermione. "Yes, you did the right thing, dear."

"Okay..." Hermione opened the door and smiled again, still amazed at the extraordinary woman stood in front of her. One day, she promised herself, she would find out more about her, about where she had been, the books she had discovered. "Thank you, again. And I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, dear."

* * *

Severus didn't return to the bookstore that day. After walking around Diagon Alley and the surrounding streets for at least an hour at the quickest pace he could, he had turned around and started to head back home. He didn't care to return to Henrietta's to find Granger sat in his chair and drinking coffee. Once he was home, however, Severus still found himself fuming, but for a reason he wasn't quite sure he could identify. With his lips set into a cold, straight line and frame rigid as he brewed furiously in his basement lab, he couldn't help the constant stream of raging thoughts running through his head.

What was she doing, butting her way back into his life again as though it was nothing? He had said a happy goodbye to her, not to mention Potter and the Weasel, a long while back. Severus had not expected to ever see them again, let alone be forced to converse or cooperate with any of them. Especially not Granger. He frowned and added the Newt's tail with a little more force than necessary. What was she doing, being a journalist anyway? He would have thought she'd have gone into some high up position in the Ministry – an Auror, or head of some department, perhaps Magical Law Enforcement. Not a journalist for a newspaper. Even he wouldn't be the last to grudgingly admit she was good with a wand, and a cauldron, but journalism? Shaking his head, Severus let out an irritated huff of breath. If the silly girl had just chosen a more fitting profession for herself, then they would probably never have crossed paths again, and everything in his life would be just as it was before. So maybe, Severus persuaded himself as he put away a few empty vials, his irritation and annoyed confusion at her ridiculous choice of career was the reason why he had dared to do such a stupid thing, asking her questions like he was even bothered one minute, and taunting her the next. Yes, it was just pure frustration at the whole entire thing that had caused him to have such a twist in character during the heat of the moment. It was Granger's fault. Not his. He wasn't the one who had chosen a career that would just irritate old acquaintances and not befit him at all. He hadn't done anything wrong; he had done the right thing.

* * *

Carl Dixon was, in short, lost. Lost, and angry. How dare she? How dare she when he needed her the way he did? How dare she throw him out as though he had done some despicable thing? She had no idea. Not a clue. And now she sent this letter; trying to be polite, civil, trying to do the right thing. It wasn't. All he had been trying to do was hold on to the only thing he could have in this twisted, ridiculous world which he was sure wasn't even worth it anymore. And she, she... She didn't understand. She had made him let go, made him release hold of the only thing the powers that be were going to allow him to have, or so it seemed. It wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to happen like this; none of it was supposed to happen like this. Not Hermione, not her, not any of it.

Heaving a sigh and dragging himself up from the seat he had been slouched in for the best part of the day, Carl summoned his cloak and pulled it half-heartedly around his shoulders. It was time to go back and get the things that belonged to him.

* * *

_**That's all for now, folks! I hope this chapter was okay for you, please review to tell me your thoughts and again, Happy New Year!**_

_**X =D**_


	21. Not Done

_**I know I've already warned you all about how some updates might come quite late, but I still feel the need to apologise anyway. You all give me such lovely reviews and feedback, only for me to leave it two or three weeks before updating! So I'm really sorry for that; I do try my best to update as quickly as I can. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and as for those last couple of paragraphs in the previous chapter – don't worry if they confused you a little, that was the intention. :D**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, never have, never will. Unless I was JK in a previous life...:P**_

_**Chapter 21 – Not Done**_

* * *

It was good, Hermione decided, to be back at work. Here, she didn't have to concentrate on her own life, only other people's lives as she wrote about them. And one person she definitely had no need to think about was Severus Snape. But she did. And, being her usual self, Hermione didn't just think about Severus Snape. She sat for most of her lunch break, internally analysing and remembering and breaking down everything he had said to her. And all she ended up with was a deep frown on her face, because she simply could not figure out what game he was trying to play. Or maybe there was no game, perhaps that was the answer, maybe he'd just decided to talk to her because he wanted to... As soon as she thought it, Hermione dismissed the idea. This was Severus Snape she was thinking about and whilst he had revealed himself to be what she had actually believed him to be all along – an innocent man given a difficult task – that still didn't mean he wasn't the same person he had always been. Calculating, serious, focused, determined and above all, unsociable. Severus Snape didn't talk to anyone unless he had to, or needed to, or was forced to. But then, he talked to Henrietta, didn't he? Though that was probably because he needed her books for whatever new research he was doing now, not because he appreciated the company. Because surely, Severus Snape didn't appreciate anyone or anything. Not the Severus Snape she knew, anyway.

And what had he meant anyway by '_...time to be buying yet more books for what I am sure is an extensive collection'_? With a huff, Hermione frowned and momentarily set down her pen, her eyes scanning over but not reading the half-finished article in front of her. What right did he have to be calling her a bookworm? He hadn't said it in so many words, but that was what he had meant. No right; that was the answer. No right at all. He wasn't exactly a prime example of someone at the forefront of the social scene, was he? Far from it. In fact, Hermione was sure she had once heard Professor McGonagall talking about him 'preferring to bury himself in that private library of his rather than eat a meal with the rest of the staff'. The point wasn't that Hermione was bothered by what he'd said – she had been called a bookworm and various other things far too many times to count, but by him? She huffed again and muttered to herself, "Talk about hypocrisy."

"What?" Hestia said, pausing as she walked past Hermione's desk. "Hypocrisy what?"

Looking up at her friend, Hermione smiled and shook her head dismissively. "Nothing, just talking to myself; ignore me."

Hestia narrowed her eyes slightly for a second and then smiled, glancing down at the article on Hermione's desk. "You nearly done? It's just I really need you to talk to Mrs Gingham about that talking pumpkin she grew before the end of today so we can get it in tomorrow's paper."

"Almost," Hermione told her, picking up her pen again and stubbornly pushing all thoughts Snape-related from her mind. "I'll have it done in an hour, then I'll go see Mrs Gingham and her pumpkin pronto."

* * *

The smell of books and varnished wood had always done something to calm her senses and help her relax – it was one of the main reasons she loved books so much, and why she had opened the shop in the first place. Henrietta was just about to close up and head home when a familiar figure appeared at the door, silent and serious looking as ever.

"Severus," she said, smiling gently at him as he stepped inside. "You didn't come in today."

He glanced down at the floor quickly and for a split second, Henrietta saw something on his face she was sure she hadn't seen before. Guilt, maybe? Or resentment, she wasn't sure. Something different, anyway, unless it was just a trick of the light - her eyes playing up again. "I had some things to attend to," he told her, taking another step further inside the shop after realising he never usually hovered by the doorway. "I needed to experiment with some of my theories in my lab."

Nodding, Henrietta smiled and moved back towards the door in the wooden panelling that concealed the bookcase-lined backroom. "I understand, dear, God knows you don't need to be wasting the hours visiting an old woman."

Severus paused for a moment, looking at the elderly shop owner intently for a moment before saying, in a voice that was almost soft, "Hours spent around books doing valuable research are never wasted ones."

Henrietta nodded again as she settled herself down into her chair and Severus into his, trying to ignore the fact that the last person who had probably sat in it was the Granger girl...woman. "There's one thing I don't understand though, dear," Henrietta said once they were sat down, her tone ever so slightly tentative as she broached the subject that had been niggling at her all day.

"Yes?"

"What on earth was it that poor Hermione said to you to make you sweep out like that? She looked absolutely confounded after you left, as though someone had just told her that her pet had died and she didn't know what to make of it."

Poor Hermione? _Poor_ Hermione? Severus frowned; infuriating, ignorant slip of a girl...woman, more like. Certainly not poor, he thought, remembering the massive payout the Ministry had insisted to awarding to each member of the 'Golden Trio'. And becoming a journalist like that, sticking her nose into people's, and in particular, his business... He had to stop himself from clicking his tongue in annoyance, remembering who was sat across from him. Pausing for a moment, Severus looked away at the books still sat on the coffee table, waiting patiently for him to use them again. "I merely made some polite small talk," he eventually said, though inside cursing himself for not having a proper answer. He always knew what he was doing; he was _always_ in control. So why did he have no idea what had made him say the things he had to the Granger girl...woman. Or perhaps a girl, after all.

"Polite small talk?" Henrietta raised an eyebrow and sat back in her chair, knowing that the best way to get him to talk was to say nothing at all herself.

There was silence for a few moments, and not the usual companionable silence that Severus was used to when it came to the kindly old woman. It was a silence that was nearing the point of being tense and Severus knew she was waiting for him to speak, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. What was there to say? He had asked Granger a few questions, she had replied and acted a little flustered, and he had left. That was all there was to it. "I asked some general questions, like why Hestia Jones had given her the day off. She seemed...distracted."

"Distracted?" Henrietta probed, smiling slightly. Now they were getting somewhere.

Giving a small shrug, Severus glanced away again before looking back at Henrietta. "I perhaps acted..." Henrietta leant forward, her face both patient and expectant at the same time. He had no idea what it was about her, but he found that maybe opening up to her wasn't so bad. "I perhaps acted a little too much like the Professor who used to terrorise her and her peers."

"And?"

The flicker of a frown crossed Severus' face for a second as he looked at her. There, he had said it. What else did she want him to say? "That's all," he said carefully, sitting straight in his chair. He was sure he couldn't ever recall having a conversation quite as awkward as this one with Henrietta. But she was still looking at him with that expectant expression on her face and there was an understanding glint to her eyes that for some reason, he couldn't deny. "I spoke to her as though she was still my student." To his surprise, it sounded almost like he was asking a question. Since when had he ever questioned his motives or actions? He frowned; come to think of it, since when had anyone else questioned his motives or actions? Never. Because they never had any right to.

Henrietta let out a soft sigh and smiled at Severus. "She's in her twenties, Severus, my dear. She's no little girl anymore."

He shifted his gaze to look down at the coffee table again and said dryly, more to himself than to anyone else, "I know."

* * *

It was growing dark outside as Hermione was making her way home from work and neared the door to her apartment. Fishing in her bag for her keys and giving a quick wave to the occupant of the upstairs flat who had just appeared at the bottom of the stairs, ready for a night out, Hermione didn't notice the man stood at her door.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, taken aback for a moment as she looked at the face she had been trying to push to the back of her mind for the past few days. She was just about to ask what the hell he thought he was doing when she remembered the letter she had sent him about picking up his belongings. "Oh, um, hi..." She trailed off, lowering her eyes to what was in his hands. "Sorry, Carl, but what are those?"

"Flowers," he stated, fixing her with a gaze that was just a little too intense as he held them out to her. "Lilies are your favourites."

"Yeah, I know, but..." Hermione didn't take them and looked back up at his face, her expression hopefully blank. "I don't want them." She straightened up and swallowed, taking a deep breath as she stepped around him and unlocked the door. "You're here to pick up your things, Carl, and then you're leaving. That's it. We're done."

She had barely pushed down on the door handle when she felt him throw his whole weight at her back and force her through the door, his arms winding their way around her waist and holding her to him tightly.

"We're not done, Hermione," she heard him mutter into her ear as the door slammed shut behind them. "We're not done."

* * *

_**Another cliff-hanger, I know, I'm terrible, aren't I? Thank you for reading anyway and please leave your thoughts; reviews are always welcome!**_

_**P.S - A friend and I have recently set up a creative writing blog - just a board for us to post some creative writing pieces, short stories, etc. It would be really great if you could take a long - the link is on my profile. And we would really, really appreicate it if you followed us or left a comment, if you like it! Thanks. =D**_

_**X =D**_


	22. Unexplained and Misunderstood

_**As always, thank you very much for all your lovely reviews and feedback – honestly, you never fail to constantly surprise me, and put a massive grin on my face. I think you're all possibly the best readers a writer could ask for. Now just before you go onto the chapter, I'd just like to say that I'm currently running a shuffle songfic contest, which I ran last year too, so if you're interested in entering that, all the details are at the top of my profile page. Anyway, I'll let you get on with reading the chapter now – hope you enjoy it!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did, but I don't...:D**_

_**Chapter 22 – Unexplained and Misunderstood**_

* * *

Hermione felt her heart judder in her chest as the door slammed shut behind them and Carl pushed her further into the flat, his arms tight around her waist and chin tucked on her shoulder. A chill ran down her spine and it took her just a few moments to take a deep breath and stiffen her frame against him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Carl?" she hissed, trying to turn her head to look at him, but he only tightened his hold on her. This was ridiculous; she had fought in and lived through a war for heaven's sakes, she knew things, had learnt ways of dealing with situations almost identical to this. Had he not thought of that? Hermione concentrated on the clumsy, but strong hold Carl had on her, and the way he was trying to keep her as close to possible, breathing deeply as though trying to convince himself of something that wasn't real. He didn't make sense. Maybe, he hadn't really thought about anything, Hermione decided. "Carl," she said again, trying her best to relax and not feel frightened. She wasn't, particularly. Maybe a little scared about his intentions, perhaps, but she was more shocked, more completely and utterly taken by surprise than anything else. "Let go of me."

"I'm not going to do anything to you, Hermione," Carl told her. His voice had gained a possessive tone to it that Hermione didn't like, but still she didn't struggle. Struggling straight away only ever made things worse, only ever panicked whoever it was who had their arms around you into doing something stupid. Mad-Eye had taught her that; she had learnt from the best.

"Let go of me, then," Hermione said, her voice calm and measured as she tried to turn her head once more to look at him. This time, he let her, moving his own face into the crook of her neck as he forcibly held her close. She twisted her head to look down at him, confused. It felt like he was some small, lost child, clinging onto someone after being unable to find their mother. "Carl," she said firmly, one more time. "I mean it now. Let go of me. This isn't achieving anything, don't you understand that? You're here to get your things and leave. Permanently." Inwardly, she added, 'what the hell happened to you?'. At least the Carl she had broken up with had been stubborn, at least he had possessed some fire, even if he was using it to try to control and question her every move. But the man stood beside her now, towering over her slightly as he held her tightly to his chest, arms digging uncomfortably into her flesh, well, he was... The only word that really came to Hermione's mind was 'pathetic', or maybe 'desperate'.

"None of this was meant to happen, Hermione," he told her quietly, still with his forehead resting against the back of her neck, breathing down her back. His voice was soft and would have almost sounded apologetic, if it weren't for the slight accusatory edge to his tone when he said her name. "Not any of it. Not you, not her, not any of it at all."

"Carl," Hermione cut in abruptly, pulling against his arms a little now as he still refused to let go of her. "If you don't let go of me now, I will _make_ you. Now just let go of me!"

"You did make me," Carl mumbled. Then, he looked up at her and Hermione was surprised to see anger burning in his eyes again, an anger that contrasted against the almost lost, helpless sound of his voice. "You made me let go, made me stop holding on to you."

"No, Carl," Hermione stated, pulling her body roughly away from him, but still he held on. "You're still holding on to me." Neither of them knew whether she was talking literally or figuratively.

"Yes." Carl pulled her even closer, this time twisting her round so that she was facing him as he bent his head down to rest his forehead against hers. "And I'm not letting go," he told her, his teeth gritted as his fingers dug into her hips. Hermione's heart started thudding in her chest as she realised for the first time that maybe he _was_ capable... "Do you hear me, Hermione? I'm _not_ letting go. I had to let her go, had to move on from her, I'm not doing that with you. You belong with me; you're mine!"

There was a maddened look in his eye that scared her and Hermione suddenly realised that maybe he wasn't all, well, there. Even thinking it to herself, she didn't believe it. This was Carl. However much she realised now that he had tried to control her, no matter how much he wasn't the right person for her... There wasn't actually anything _wrong_ with him, was there? He was a Healer, for Merlin's sake, he healed people, performed operations, prescribed the right medication. He was _good_ at his job, despite anything else... He wasn't _ill_, or insane. Just...possessive, Hermione insisted to herself. She had known him a few years and not once during those years had she ever thought he might not be stable, or able to control himself. He just had some undesirable qualities that she had eventually taken notice of, that was all. Nothing more, she told herself.

"Carl," Hermione said steadily, not pulling her forehead away from his. She needed to keep hold of his focus, didn't want to drag his attention away from her face. "I'm giving you three seconds to let go of me. And then ten minutes to get your things and leave; I don't want to see you again, and that's that. Whatever it is you're trying to do, it's not working." She kept insisting to herself that she was just being assertive, strong in the face of danger, didn't want to let him back into her life again. He was bad news, so she was telling him where to go. Simply, and firmly. But Hermione couldn't deny it...the more she talked to him, the more she felt like she was talking to him the way someone speaks to an immature child. Why couldn't he just grasp the concept that they were done, finished, through? Why couldn't he just accept that and take his things graciously, like anyone else would?

* * *

"Don't you get it, Hermione?" Carl said, moving his head back slightly before knocking it into hers again lightly, as though that would help him get his point across. "I'm _not_ going to let you make me let go!"

"Fine," Hermione muttered, trying to calm her heart as it thudded against her ribcage. She had to get this right. Trying to move her right hand so that he wouldn't notice, Hermione gritted her teeth as her fingers closed around her wand. In one swift, silent movement, it was out of her back pocket and Carl was on the other side of the room, keeled over in pain as he clutched at his stomach.

"What the hell did you do?" he shouted angrily, glaring up at her as he wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to stand back up on shaky legs. "You mad bitch!"

"You wouldn't let go of me!" Hermione yelled back, wand still gripped tightly in her hand. With another silent movement, all of his possessions came quickly zooming in from various areas of the apartment to collect in an organised heap in front of him. "There's your things, now get out, Carl. I don't want to see you again; it's not that hard a concept to understand!"

"Oh I understand it alright!" Carl told her, still shouting as he angrily flicked his own wand at his things so that they shrank down and organised themselves into a black fabric bag. "But you don't understand either! None of this was meant to happen!"

Feeling well and truly fed up of him now, Hermione let out an exasperated cry, her eyes wide. "What, Carl? What wasn't meant to happen? You keep saying all these things, over and over again, and I don't get you anymore! That's all there is to it, okay. I don't see you, and you don't see me. It's quite simple!"

"You!" Carl yelled, gesturing wildly towards her as his fists clenched. "_You_ weren't meant to happen, and what happened before wasn't meant to either! It's not fair!"

"Well if I wasn't meant to happen, then why bother with me in the first place?" They were both screaming themselves hoarse at each other now, and Hermione was glad the apartment had silencing charms all around it, or she'd have the neighbours round, wondering what was wrong and why they both had sticks of wood in their hands. Carl had a wild, dangerous look in his eyes, and Hermione was just simply confused, and furious.

Staring at her as he breathed heavily for a few moments, his whole body pulsating with fury, Carl picked up his bag angrily and shouted at her, "I bothered because I thought you could replace her!"

Hermione stopped. If she had been in the dark before, now she was well and truly immersed in the blackness. "What the hell do you mean, Carl? Replace _who_? You never make any sense! If I wasn't meant to happen, then why did you ask me out? Why not just leave me alone? I'm sure my life would be so much better if I had never met you!"

Carl just let out an angry huff of breath and flung the door open, looking back at her for a moment. "Just forget it, Hermione, but all of this is your fault. Yours, and your stupid friend, Potter's. Okay?" And with that, he slammed the door shut behind him and was gone.

Hermione stared at the closed door for a second, her face red with fury before she shouted after him, "No, it's not okay! What the hell has Harry got to do with any of this?"

There was no reply; he was already gone, and as Hermione sank down to the floor and ran a weary hand through her hair, she told herself over and over again that she would not cry. It didn't stop a few small tears from falling though, dripping from her eyelashes and running down her cheeks as she grasped at her hair out of frustration. He had never mentioned Harry before; what did he have to do with anything? Why couldn't Carl ever just be honest with her and explain what was going on in his head? Maybe though, Hermione realised, maybe he couldn't.

* * *

_**Well, I hope that was okay for you. I know some of this might not make sense yet, but an explanation about Carl and everything will come eventually, and the things said in this chapter will be significant. I hope you liked the chapter, thanks for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	23. The Black Box

_**Thank you so much, as always, for the lovely reviews. Just a quick reply to Moewe's question (thank you very much for your kind reviews!), but no, I haven't ever worked with anyone like Carl, or anyone with a metal handicap...I think some of you know, or maybe not, but I'm only fifteen, so chances for any work like that are pretty slim. :D But I'm flattered that the situation with Carl is realistic enough for you to think that! Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope you like it and please keep the reviews coming! **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter...I'm just not that awesome. :P**_

_**Chapter 23 – The Black Box**_

* * *

This was ridiculous. Cursing under his breath, Severus evaporated the potion from his cauldron with an over-violent swish of his wand and started pacing angrily back and forth. Why wouldn't it work? No matter what he tried, no matter the different components, the varying amounts, the different methods, there wasn't anything that even showed signs of potential. For the first time since he had started developing potions, Severus was coming up against a brick wall. And he didn't like it, wasn't used to it, not one bit. He always found _something_; there was always some small error that was causing the problem, always one bit of research he had missed out on. But not this time. Severus had checked, over and over again, looked through his notes, checked through his records, done each experiment several times. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

In a sudden, violent rush of frustration, he kicked the wall, stilling as the sound echoed through the basement lab. Why? Why wasn't there anything he had to go on? Something should have showed up by now, _something_ should have given him some sort of lead to go on, a line of research he could follow. But there was, truly, nothing to go on this time. He didn't like it, and he wasn't accustomed to drawing up a blank. It just wasn't him.

Of course, he had never expected to just find the right combination straight away; he hadn't expected to make a few cauldrons, change their properties a few times, and instantly have something that would increase the potency of the healing potions. It was never that simple, anyone who was worthy of an OWL in potions knew that. But by now, after all that research, all that note-taking and reading and experimenting, Severus had expected for some sort of combination to show signs of working, with a little more work. He knew he'd have to travel, eventually, to refine the combination and find the right mix of properties... But he'd never expected to be unable to find anything to actually refine in the first place.

"Merlin's balls," Severus muttered, putting his ingredients back into a cupboard with more force and anger in his actions than necessary. And just to top it all off, he'd have Granger skulking around again soon, shoving her finished draft for the article under his nose, pestering him to tell her what he thought of it. And then, it would be released, providing he found it acceptable, and he'd once again be in the limelight, especially with all the relatives of victims to the memory charms – the raids during the war where Death Eaters had left people worse than dead, empty shells of themselves... Death Eaters like him.

* * *

"Hey," Hestia said, stopping suddenly at Hermione's desk. She turned to look at her, watching Hermione as she hurriedly pulled her cloak on. "Where are you going?"

Glancing up at her, Hermione grabbed her keys out of her bag and stuffed them into her pocket. "Just nipping back home quickly; I've forgotten my notes from the interview with Professor Snape, and I wanted to get the article finished this afternoon." She wore a grim expression. "He wants to see a draft before it's even sent to editing."

"Oh," Hestia said, the corner of her lips quirking into a smile, "Been in touch have you?"

Hermione huffed, sounding a little annoyed. "I bumped into him in a shop the other day; he asked me how the article was going." She pulled a face. "He's acting like it's some assignment he set, and I've not finished it in time."

"Well, that's Snape for you," Hestia sighed, shuffling some papers that were in her hands. "Look, loyal and brave man or not, he's still a mean, greasy git."

Chuckling a little, Hermione moved out from behind her desk and tucked her wand away inside her cloak. "A bit harsh, but yes," she said, looking thoughtful for a moment before she looked up at Hestia again and said decisively, "He is." However, the words 'loyal' and 'brave' still swirled in her head as she hurried her way out of the office.

* * *

The first thing that struck Hermione as odd when she arrived back at her flat was that her bedroom door was open, when she was sure she had shut it before leaving that morning. Frowning to herself, Hermione shook her head and dismissed it. Silence filled the flat, and all the rest of her possessions were exactly where she had left them; there was no-one else there. She decided that she mustn't have shut the bedroom door after all and quickly crossed over to the coffee table where her notes were from the interview with her snarky potions professor.

Hermione had the notes clutched in her hand and was ready to hurry back out the door when she heard it. A crash sounded from the bedroom, a definite crash, as though someone had knocked something over or dropped something on the floor. She froze, nearly dropping the notes in her hand as a rush of ice cold fear crept through her veins.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione steadied her voice and called out, "Hello?" The silence still lingered. She turned and walked as quietly as she could towards her bedroom, trying to stop her hands from shaking. There was no need for her to be scared in her own home. But just to be sure, she put down the notes in her hands and pulled out her wand before cautiously approaching the bedroom again. "Who's there?"

There was no reply again, and so after taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped through the door into her bedroom, wand held defensively in front of her. Upon seeing the state of her bedroom, and the person stood in the middle of it, her eyebrows hit the roof and she angrily tightened the grip on her wand. "Carl, what in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

* * *

"Severus," Henrietta said, surprised as he entered her shop with a purposeful stride, cloak billowing behind him. She quickly saw the look of cold frustration on his face and frowned, pulling herself up from the stool she had been sat on behind the counter. Her leg had been aggravating her again, and though his potion had eased a lot of the pain away, she still found it hard to stand on it for long periods of time. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," he muttered, letting out a sigh of frustration. He turned on his heel to face her, expression grim. "That's just it, nothing's happened."

"Well, whatever do you mean, my dear?" Henrietta asked, still frowning slightly as she moved to open the door to the side room and welcomed him in, gladly taking a seat herself. "What's happened to make you so angry?"

Sinking down into his usual chair, Severus sat back, elegant as ever, and let out a long sigh. "I apologise," he said, "For striding in here like this, but it's not working. I've tried everything, from mixing the copper and silver, to softening to gold, to adding fibres to the different metals. And not one combination I've tried has come up with anything that shows even the remotest sign of potential." He looked up at her. "I've come to ask your permission to use this room and your books more often; it seems, I'm going to have to do some more research."

"Oh by all means, my dear!" Henrietta exclaimed, nodding. "My room is your room, whenever you need it. Whatever book you need, I'm sure I'll have it somewhere."

Severus bowed his head in a single nod and turned his head towards the old woman who was more generous than he could ever have expected or asked for. And looking at her, though he would have denied it, the smallest twinges of a grateful smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Carl floundered, opening his mouth and closing it again, his eyes darting between the box he held in his hands, and Hermione's furious expression. "I...um...erm...I was just..." His mouth clamped shut again, before opening once more. "This is mine," he said, nodding towards the black tin box in his hands. "I just wanted to get it back."

Hermione looked at him coldly, frowning at the box he was holding onto tightly. "I gave you back all your things yesterday, Carl, now get out. And don't come back."

Desperation flitted across his face as he looked down at the box again, and then back up at her. "I know, sorry, but I needed to get this. I'll go now." He made to rush past her, but Hermione raised her wand and pointed it at him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Give me the box, Carl." She gripped her wand. "Give me the box, then get out. I thought I made it clear yesterday; I don't want to see you ever again."

He suddenly hugged the box closer to his body, eyes wide in alarm. "It's mine, Hermione, just let me take it and I'll be out of here..." His face was possessive again. "You don't have to see me ever again," he added bitterly.

"Give me the box," Hermione repeatedly sternly, again as though she was talking to a child, "And then get out." She moved to the side slightly so he could move past her. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Carl reluctantly handed the box to her, warily eyeing her wand the whole time before he slipped past her.

"It's nothing to do with you, it's to do with her," he muttered, like a sulky child deprived of his toys.

"Well then," Hermione said, her voice clipped and measured, "It's got everything to do with me. Now get out, before I do something I regret." She still held her wand up and didn't relax it until he had left, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione allowed her hand to shake slightly again before she lowered her eyes to the box in her hands and frowned. What the hell was in it? She was sure she had never seen it before. But whatever was in there, Hermione would soon find out. First thing first, though... She looked up at the front door. She needed some wards, and strong ones at that.

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_**Ooh, the plot thickens, haha! Well, I hope this chapter was okay for you and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	24. Seeking Protection

_**As always, thank you all so much for the kind reviews, story alerts and favourites, it means a lot to me. Anyway, without further ado, here is the next chapter!**_

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_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. :D**_

_**Chapter 24 – Seeking Protection**_

* * *

Sighing and casting one last look around her flat, Hermione shrunk the black box in her hands down to fit in the pocket of her jeans. She had covered all her belongings, and every window and door with heavy protection spells, but not wards. Wards, Hermione felt a little ashamed to admit, had never been her strong point. She could put basic ones in place, of course, ones that would keep out the average burglar or intruder, but to anyone with any skill with a wand, they wouldn't take too long to dismantle and break through. She had read plenty of books, of course, but even she wouldn't be the last person to admit that not everything can be learned from a book. And so, Hermione had set about thinking who, out of all the people she knew, was renowned for privacy, and incredibly strong wards.

And there was only one answer to that question; she didn't like it, she had even considered not going, but her flat needed wards, and they needed the sort of wards that only he could put in place. She was not going to have Carl anywhere near her possessions, or her home, ever again. She didn't care that the black box that now sat heavy in her pocket belonged to him, or that it contained information or objects that were nothing to do with her. He should have taken it when he had the chance the day before.

After quickly scribbling a note to Hestia telling her that she had decided to finish the article at home, where she could concentrate more, Hermione left her flat, hoping that the charms she had put in place would hold for the time being. She felt a little bad about lying to her friend, but this couldn't wait. Whatever was in the box, Carl didn't want her to see it, and he would almost certainly be coming back for it.

* * *

Severus cursed under his breath when a knock sounded at his door, short and insistent. Getting up from the couch and putting down his glass of firewhiskey, he slowly made his way to the door, wondering who on earth would be trying to pay him a visit mid-afternoon.

Once he had opened the door, Severus was even less impressed to see none other than Hermione Granger stood on his doorstep, her hair being whipped around by the wind as she pulled her coat tighter around her. Well, at least she had the good sense to wear Muggle clothing when coming to see him; buying a property in a Muggle area of London had been first on Severus' list of priorities after he had recovered from the snake bite. He wanted somewhere comfortable, not too small but not too big, and somewhere away from everyone and anyone who might want to disturb him. Granger, it seemed, hadn't quite cottoned onto that fact yet. And they called her the brightest witch of her age. "Granger," he said, his lip curling distastefully around the name, as though it degraded him to say it, "What a pleasant surprise."

"Can I come in?" she asked, and Severus was taken aback by her forwardness. Only once, had she been inside his house, and it certainly had barely been by his invitation. She had forced her way in, insisting on helping with the old woman, even though she knew he was more than capable of healing her himself.

"And why on earth would I let you do that?" he drawled, one hand still holding the edge of the door, ready to close it again as he watched her shiver in the cold wind outside, her eyes piercing his with a stubborn glare.

She sighed. "Because I need to talk to you. It's important."

Raising an eyebrow, Severus looked at her inquisitively for a moment. She was shivering slightly, but she also seemed very on edge, jumpy... She kept looking to the side of her, up the street, as though she was worried someone had followed her, would see her talking to him. "Have you finished that ridiculous article, is that why you're here?" he asked dryly, his eyes wandering disinterestedly from her face to look out as the wind whipped through the trees and blew a newspaper down the street.

"No, I...I've nearly finished..." Hermione trailed off and sighed again, her glare turning to a slight look of pleading. "Please, Snape, I know you'd rather I pissed off and you never saw me again. But I need your help. Can you just let me inside, it's freezing out here."

He tapped his foot on the floor, raising an eyebrow at her again. "Language, Granger, language." A look of impatient frustration crossed her face, and he decided to finally put her out of her misery. He stepped back a little way, still holding the edge of the door. "You may come in."

"Thank you," she said, a little testily as she ducked under his arm and stopped in his hallway while he closed the door, keeping the cold out. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, and believe me, if there was anyone else, I wouldn't have come..."

He rounded on her. "Spit it out, Granger."

Hermione swallowed, eyes darting up to look at his face. He didn't look angry, surprisingly, or even annoyed that she had once again managed to talk her way into his home. He looked...she frowned. He looked almost...amused, to see her stood there, in his hallway. "I need your help to put wards on my apartment," she told him quickly, and then added, "Strong ones."

A look of joyous wonder spread across his face at that, and Hermione recognised the expression. She had seen it one too many times, whenever he was taunting a student, torturing them with the fact he knew something they didn't. The bastard. "Well, well, well," he drawled, and for a moment, she was reminded of Draco Malfoy, who wasn't all that bad these days actually, it seemed, "Hermione Granger, the famous know-it-all, doesn't know how to ward her apartment." He looked at her appraisingly for a moment, and Hermione could tell he was getting some sort of sickening enjoyment out of this. "You do know there are books on the subject, don't you, Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione said hotly, beginning to realise how much of a mistake she had made, going to him for help, "But there's only so much you can learn from books. I'm capable of putting your basic wards in place, but I need strong ones, complicated ones that are almost impossible to get through."

There was silence for a few moments as Severus considered, and for a moment, Hermione felt hopeful, before he said, "And what makes you think I would want to help you with that?"

She sighed again, sensing that she was fighting a losing battle. He was right – what reason did he have to help her? He didn't owe her anything; in fact, she owed him, for everything he had done for them during the war. "I don't know," she sighed, "If I'm being honest with you, I have no idea why I even came here. Well, I do. I came because I need brilliant wards, and I know you can do better than brilliant, that's why I came. But why I expected you to help me, I have no idea. I'll just go now," she fixed him with hard stare before turning and heading for the door. "Sorry to have wasted your time," she muttered, reaching for the doorknob.

But before she could even turn it, his hand whipped out and in the space of a second, he had his fingers wrapped around her wrist and was pulling her back. For a moment, a feeling shot down her spine – something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Fear? No, that's wasn't it... His fingers weren't clasped around her wrist, he wasn't gripping her tightly, he was just...pulling her back, almost...gently, in fact.

"What do you need strong wards for?" he asked, the derision gone from his tone.

Looking down at the floor, Hermione bit her lip slightly and then looked up at him, a small sigh falling from in between her lips. "I'm sure you'll have heard by now that I broke up with my boyfriend...Carl Dixon? You might have met him; he's a Healer at St. Mungo's. Anyway, he was getting possessive and starting to scare me quite a bit, so I...told him where to go. But it seems..." she frowned, wondering why she was telling him all this. Why didn't she just make something up? She could have said she was paranoid about intruders, people trying to steal her things, or find things out about her. Anything but the truth. But there was something in his gaze that encouraged her to go on, so she did.

"He won't let go, can't get his head around the fact that we're through. He keeps muttering on about a 'her' and how 'none of this was supposed to happen', and today, I went back home at lunch time to find out he had broken into my flat; he was looking for something, I think." There, Hermione decided, that was all he needed to know. There was no need for him to know about the black box that still resided in her pocket, burning through her jeans, almost begging to be opened.

For a moment, Severus looked at her. He took in the slight flash of fear and worry that had crossed her expression at the mention of Carl Dixon (yes, he had met him, briefly, and had known of him at Hogwarts – smart boy, hadn't caused any trouble, particularly. Ravenclaw.). He noticed the slight look of pleading in her eyes, the hint of desperation that lingered there. All she wanted was privacy, and despite the fact that there were a thousand things he could have said along the lines of 'what has your failed love life got to do with me?', he found himself respecting that. "Very well then, Granger," he said, unable to believe what he was doing. He picked up his coat – a long, black one – Muggle design. "I'll help you."

Shock was evident on Hermione face as her eyes widened. "You will?" she asked, taken aback.

"Do you want me to repeat myself, Granger?" he asked dryly, opening the door and waiting for her to go out before him.

"No, no..." She hurried through the door and waited on the steps for him. "Thank you, for agreeing to help me."

The wind had picked up since lunchtime and was now blowing her unruly curls around her face, so Severus could barely hear what she was saying. He did however catch the words 'thank you' and smirked. Oh, the day Hermione Granger had come to him for help...This was a first, certainly.

* * *

_**Hermione/Severus bonding (slightly) to come next chapter! I hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading, and reviews are most definitely welcome! Or I'll send Carl after you. :P Just kidding, I don't think anyone deserves that. **_

_**X =D**_


	25. Concentration

_**Wow, thank you all so much for your reviews last chapter! It seems a lot of you are quite excited for this one, so I only hope that it lives up to your expectations. I hope you enjoy it, and please keep the feedback coming! Or I'll send my bloodthirsty house elves after you...:P Just joking. Of course. House elves are really very cuddly. :D **_

_**P.S - So sorry for the delay with this chapter. I had it written and it would have been posted over a week ago, if the site hadn't decide to play up and prevent me from clicking on the 'Edit' button for this story. It's been giving me an error message for the past week and a half. :( Anyway, sorry about that, and I hope you like it! **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter...or any house elves. Shame... :P**_

_**Chapter 25 – Concentration**_

* * *

"No, Granger," Severus said for what felt like the hundredth time as he swept up beside her again and clicked his tongue impatiently. "How many times do I have to tell you to _concentrate_?" His voice was silky in her ear as he enunciated every word, an undercurrent of frustration running beneath his tone.

Taking a deep breath, in and out, Hermione flicked her gaze up to meet his before snapping her eyes away again and lowering her wand. They were stood inside her flat, the door closed. Once they had arrived, he had insisted on not only putting strong, almost impenetrable wards in place for her, which he had done with a smug smirk on his face and the same air of superiority about him that had always feel about three inches tall as a Potions student, but also on making sure that she knew herself how to create stronger than basic wards, in case anything went wrong. 'So you won't have to come running to disturb me again,' were his exact words. Though, they both knew, nothing was going to go wrong with the wards he had put in place. In fact, if he were still alive, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if Dumbledore himself had trouble with them.

"I'm trying," she told him through gritted teeth, breathing deeply again. Being patronised and spoken down to by Severus Snape whilst he tried to teach her something wasn't an experience Hermione had ever wanted to relive after she had left Hogwarts, but she kept on telling herself to remain calm. She couldn't rise to his bait, couldn't give him the satisfaction of becoming frustrated. He was the one who had willingly come and provided her flat with the wards she needed, after all. "Every time I think I've got it, it slips away."

"And that, Granger, is because you are failing to _concentrate_ fully," he told her again in silky tones as he made no effort to hide the fact that he was fully enjoying having superiority over her once again, even now he was no longer her teacher. "The last few layers are the most crucial, and you must have complete focus in order to form them, or you will find that the whole thing dissolves, as yours has been doing."

Sighing, Hermione nodded and continued to chant her newest mantra in her head: 'I must remain calm, I must not get frustrated. I must remain calm, I must not get frustrated'. She raised her wand again and pointed it at the door, channelling all her energy and focus into the wards she wanted to create, her mind concentrating on the carefully crafted tapestry of magic that began to weave itself in front of her – a defensive, impenetrable shield. And then, Severus shifted beside her, his arm brushing her shoulder slightly and as that feeling shot down her spine again, she felt her concentration, and the wards, slip away. It was the same as she had felt back in his hallway – a feeling she couldn't quite identify... Not fear, not even anything particularly unpleasant. But it was curious, and slightly, Hermione thought, slightly worrying.

"I'm not going to say it again, Granger, concentrate!" His voice was slightly louder now as he began to get bored with her failed attempts; he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he had been planning on doing some more brewing that evening, in the desperate hope that he had missed something in his experiments, but it seemed the chance of him returning home with enough patience left to do so was becoming increasingly slim.

"I'm trying!" Hermione gave an aggravated sigh and pushed her hair back from her face again. A pink tinge had come over her cheeks from having to concentrate so much, and she was beginning to get frustrated and, Severus noticed, a little flustered. She pulled off her cardigan and flung it on the sofa, leaving her stood in just jeans and a white blouse, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows and top buttons undone to reveal a silver chain around her neck – a birthday present from her parents one year, and just the tiniest hint of cleavage.

Severus looked at her for a moment, a silence hanging between them, introducing a note of awkwardness before Hermione added with a huff, "And don't say 'it's not good enough' either."

Raising an eyebrow in response, Severus' lips curled up into a smirk. "Are you a mind-reader now, Granger?" he asked, and if Hermione didn't know any better, she'd say he sounded faintly amused. "Or a psychic, perhaps? Or maybe you have, as Sybil predicted once, I believe, discovered your _inner eye_?"

"No, I just..." Hermione hesitated, turning to look at him to check he wasn't angry with her. He was weird – not quite how she remembered; she felt like she didn't quite know where she stood with him. When she thought he should be angry at her, he wasn't, and when she wanted to talk to him properly, he was impossible to have a conversation with. However at his words, she felt the corners of her lips turning up into a smile, a laugh building up within her as she remembered the ridiculous woman that was Professor Trelawney. She sighed again to stop herself from laughing. "I just knew you were going to say that."

"Remarkable, Granger," he drawled, voice heavy with sarcasm, "You know me so well."

Feeling a blush creep across her cheeks, Hermione turned away, and wondered why she was blushing at all. The dry, sarcastic tone to his voice and the deadpan stare sent that feeling shooting down her spine once again, causing a smile to tug unnecessarily on the corners of her mouth. "Okay, let's try again," she said, ignoring him as she raised her wand again and tried to forget all about him standing behind her, banishing his words and the look on his face. Once again, she channelled all her concentration and began to construct the wards again, more determined than ever to do it right this time so he could leave and she wouldn't have to feel so puzzled all the time.

Severus watched her, and saw a focused determination blaze in her eyes as she gripped her wand tighter. For a moment, he was (annoyingly) mesmerised as the tip of her tongue slipped out to wet her lips briefly before she finished with a flick of her wand, the front door now well warded.

"Well done, Granger," Severus said dryly, not sounding congratulatory at all.

She turned to face him, a slightly tentative smile on her face as she pushed her wand back into her pocket. "Well, thank you...for putting the wards up, and teaching me how to construct better ones. Do you, erm-" She cut herself off abruptly, panicking for a moment about what she was about to say, but she had already half-finished the sentence, and he was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and expectant expression. "Do you want a drink, or...anything?"

For a long, painful moment, there was silence, in which Severus simply stared at her, inwardly stunned. "To say thank you?" he asked and once again, Hermione thought he sounded ever so slightly amused.

"Um, yes, if you want."

He looked at her for a moment, thinking. "I think I'll pass, Granger. Brewing to be done, research to be conducted."

"Right, yeah, sorry..." Hermione replied, nodding. Sorry? Sorry? She sighed inwardly, wondering what the hell she was saying to him. However, he was already heading towards the door and she opened it for him, feeling the black box in her pocket almost burn with longing to be opened.

Severus looked at her a little oddly for a second before stepping out. "Goodnight, Granger."

She gave him a small smile. "Goodnight, sir... Thank you." And with that, he was gone. She shut the door and heaved a sigh of relief, just glad that it was over. Why, she wasn't sure. Now though, there was the matter of a mysterious black box to attend to.

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_**Yes, I know, I'm sorry! I've left you hanging with the black box again, but I promise, all will be revealed next chapter. I hope you enjoyed this, and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	26. Pictures and A Thousand Words

_**Well, here you are! The next chapter, in which the contents of the little black box, is revealed. I'm pretty worried I'm going to disappoint you all a bit with this, as it might not be what you're expecting, I'm not sure... Anyway, I hope you like it and thanks again for all the reviews so far. Keep them coming!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, not in any way, shape or form. :(**_

_**Chapter 26 – Pictures and A Thousand Words**_

* * *

She had expected secrets. She had expected something terrible, some great shadow of Carl's past that he hadn't made known to her. She had even expected, perhaps, dark magic. She hadn't expected this. Because secrets, she could handle; she could simply confront Carl about them, or forget him, and forget them. Hidden pieces of past, she could cope with; she knew how to extract information from people, where to go if what she learnt could be dangerous and so on. Even dark magic, she would have known how to handle. She was more than well-versed in counter-curses and antidotes and what to do in an emergency, should any of that fail. This, however, Hermione thought as she stared down at the contents of the black box she had taken from Carl, this was possibly worse than all those three things put together. Because this reaffirmed everything, this had confirmed everything he had denied, that he was everything he had accused _her_ of. She could deal with secrets, darkened pasts and black magic. She couldn't deal with this; she didn't know how to.

* * *

Letters. Scores of them, some short, some longer. About half were in Carl's familiar scrawl, and the rest were written in a neat, cursive script she didn't recognise. Leafing through them, barely paying attention to the words, Hermione hazarded a guess that there were about a hundred of them; none were dated, but they were signed. The thousands of words blurred before her eyes, ink running into ink. She couldn't read them. Not now. She had already seen the '_I love you always. Carl._' at the bottom of half of them one too many times; and even though she didn't love him, even though in some ways, she despised him now, and even though they had broken up and she never wanted to see him again, those words still hurt. They stung at the back of her throat, and made the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach twist into a hard knot of anger. These letters hadn't been to her, of course they hadn't, they were written to someone else. Another woman, obviously. The 'her' that Carl kept maddeningly referring to. And to think, he had accused _her_ of cheating, of being with someone else, when all the time... A whirlwind of rage, hurt, anger and betrayal flew across her face as Hermione dropped the letters back into the box, as though it burnt her fingertips just to hold them. And as she glared down at them, hot tears filling up in her eyes, just one word fell from between her lips: "_Hypocrite_."

* * *

The pictures were almost easier to look at. Almost. Because a picture could mean anything, Carl's arm going around someone could mean anything. Holding hands could mean anything, a hug could mean anything. She had held hands, put her arm round and hugged Harry and Ron all the time. Looking at them, Hermione could almost pretend that these were just pictures of old friends that he had decided to keep. Except they weren't, she knew they weren't; she had seen enough of the letters to know that.

Angrily wiping away at the tears threatening to fall from the ends of her eyelashes, Hermione looked down at the photograph in her hands, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to stop it from trembling. A younger version of Carl stared back up at her, a boyish grin on his handsome face that she had almost forgotten he had. His hair was slightly blonder, messier, and he was wearing his school uniform. She recognised the Head Boy badge pinned proudly to his robes and realised he must have been in his seventh year when this was taken; she would have been in her sixth year at the time.

Hermione watched as a girl came into the photo and the grin on Carl's face stretched wider as he put an arm around her, pulling her close as they both turned to smile at the camera. Their joy was easily identifiable as that of young love, the light in their eyes and laughter on their faces was clearly a product of teenage romance; they looked at each other the exact same way as Harry and Ginny still gazed at each other, the way Ron and Gina exchanged loving glances all the time... The way Carl had never looked at her.

* * *

There were other photos, in which both looked a little older, and no longer in their school uniform. The background might still have been Hogwarts though, Hermione couldn't tell. Perhaps this mystery girl, Carl's 'her', hadn't gone back to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year due to the war, just like her, Harry and Ron hadn't. She knew of plenty who had gone into hiding that year, rather than returning to possibly the safest place in the country. Some of the pictures were of them together, the same joy and love still emanating from their expressions and actions...and some were of 'her' alone, and these were the ones Hermione stared at the longest. She was waiting for a spark of recognition, for some sort of familiarity, but none came. There had been hundreds of students at Hogwarts when she was there, and Hermione hadn't been close to or even known of a lot of them.

Letting out a long sigh, Hermione picked up another and watched as the girl laughed and grinned at the camera. Snow was falling behind her, small flakes landing in long, maple coloured hair. Her eyes were a light brown colour too, her face warm, happy and youthful; but then, Hermione guessed, perhaps love did that to you. She didn't know. With another sigh, and a sudden rush of bitter anger, Hermione hurriedly picked all the photos and letters up and shoved them back in their box, slamming the lid down on them with more force than necessary.

Turning away from the box where it sat on her coffee table, Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and pressed herself against the side of the sofa, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt not to cry. She had promised herself she wouldn't, that no tears would fall on account of Carl Dixon ever again, but they did. Angrily she wiped them away, furious at them for showing her weakness, but still they kept falling. And all Hermione could think was 'How could he?'. How could he accuse her of doing exactly what he had been doing behind her back? How could he tear her apart and take up months of her life, whilst all the time, it wasn't her he had wanted. It was 'her', the other her, the pretty, laughing girl in the photographs and the letters, that he wanted.

The knot of anger in Hermione's stomach pulled even tighter, the acid in her stomach churning as more hot, raging tears streamed down her face. She wasn't heartbroken, and she didn't feel hatred or jealousy. But what Hermione did feel was anger and fury, raging a storm in her chest; she felt betrayal, and foolishness and disappointment, all at once. Tirades of emotions were causing a storm inside her as she battled with her thoughts. For a few fleeting moments, she thought about confronting Carl, about going to find him and cursing him with a lot worse than a Bat-Bogey Hex or stunning charm. But then, what good would that do? That would just result in the Ministry getting involved, in her name being dragged through the dirt. Violence was never the answer; it was ironic, but the war had taught her that.

After a long half an hour that felt more like three days, Hermione wiped the last of the tears away from her face, got up with an almost dreamlike calmness about her, and went to make herself look more presentable. She ignored the black box; still sitting closed on the table for the time being, and with a practised sedateness, picked up her cloak and pushed her hair back from her face. It was only then that Hermione crossed back over to the box, her face expressionless as she picked out one of the photographs, shut the lid, and then left her apartment, wards in place. She kept the anger and hurt she felt inside, leaving it to bubble just below the surface of her skin. What was the good in shouting, crying and screaming? There was no-one there to listen.

* * *

"Hermione, this is a pleasant surprise!" Ginny exclaimed happily as she opened the door, an automatic smile spreading across her face. But when she saw the strange look on her friend's face, Ginny's smile lessened a little and concern crept into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Just then, Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs, apparently not having noticed someone at the door. "Just got him to sleep, Gin, should I –" He stopped when he clocked Hermione. He smiled. "Hi, Hermione! Sorry about that; I was just putting James to bed whilst trying not to wake Teddy up."

Giving him a small smile as she stepped inside, Hermione took out the photograph from her pocket, feeling too tired and angry to not cut straight to the chase. Ginny frowned at her slightly for a second, seeing the calm, yet purposeful look on Hermione's face. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

"I'm fine; sorry to intrude on you both like this, but..." She sighed, glancing down at the photograph before handing it to Ginny. "Do you know who that is?"

Ginny glanced up at her, then down at the photo in her hands, still frowning a little. "Um...Well, that's Carl-"

"Yes, I know that's Carl," Hermione said a little impatiently, her eyes flickering to Harry to see if he knew. "I mean the girl who's with him. Do you know who she is?"

"I, um..." Ginny looked a little closer, her brow furrowing as she tried to think.

"Means nothing to me," Harry said with a shrug, looking back up at Hermione. "What's all this about anyway?"

"Wait, I remember now," Ginny cut in before Hermione could explain, holding up a hand as she nodded, then passed the picture back to Hermione. "Her name was Mandy Brocklehurst; she was in our year, Ravenclaw. She was meant to be really good at Herbology; if you want to know more about her, ask Neville, he talked to her more than me when he was spending all that time in the Greenhouses. What's this for, a story for the _Phoenix_ or something?"

For a moment, there was silence as Hermione stared back down at the photo, then up at Harry and Ginny again. "No, it's... You're using the past tense," she said with a frown, cottoning onto exactly what Ginny had said. "What do you mean, 'she _was_ really good at Herbology'?"

Swallowing, Ginny cast her eyes downwards before she brought her gaze back to meet Hermione's again. There was sadness in her eyes now, which made Hermione frown even more. "She...She died, Hermione. In the war..." She swallowed again, biting her lip slightly before she spoke again, quieter this time. "She got killed in the Final Battle."

* * *

_**Well, now you know a little bit more about the 'her' Carl keeps referring to, and a few more things will start to make sense over the next few chapters. Don't worry though; there will be more Severus, and more Severus/Hermione to come too, all woven in. I really hope this was okay and didn't disappoint you too much... Anyway, please, please review to tell me your thoughts!**_

_**X =D**_


	27. Consolation Prize

_**Thank you all, as ever, for your reviews. I'm glad I didn't disappoint anyone too much with the contents of the black box! Now...on again with the show. :P**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, just one of the wands that doesn't even light up anymore. :(**_

_**Chapter 27 – Consolation Prize**_

* * *

Anger, confusion, betrayal, rejection, pity, hurt, curiosity, pain, wonder, mistrusted... Hermione felt all these things, in equal measure. But perhaps, the thing she felt most following Ginny's revelation was guilt. Guilt because she had suspected Carl of playing away whilst they were together, because she had thought him a cheat, a liar... And yes, he still was a liar, in many ways, but not in the way she had presumed. And that was just it. She had _presumed_. All her life, Hermione had been a logical person, a practical person – known for putting logic and sensible thought before any kind of over-emotional reaction. But this time, just this once, she had forgotten all that. She had looked at the evidence she had and misjudged its meaning, had seen, perhaps, what she had wanted to, or had expected to see.

But confusion, also, because Hermione had no idea why Carl hadn't told her about Mandy. They had been together long enough for their pasts to be discussed – she had opened up to him about things that had happened, things she had seen during the war. She had been honest about the horror and terror she had felt, the mistakes she had made and regrets she had, amongst their eventual victory. Hermione had opened up her soul to him, spilled out all her memories... Yet, Carl had not trusted her enough, had not loved or respected or cared for her enough to tell her about Mandy, about the girl he had loved before the war, the girl he had lost because of the war... Why hadn't he just spoken to her about it? Why had he kept it pent up inside him? It was no wonder she had been confused at his behaviour and actions; all that time, Carl had been trying to replace a girl Hermione didn't know about, hadn't been told about. If he had just told her the truth, if he had just come clean and told her about Mandy, about how he had loved and lost her in the war, then maybe Hermione would have found it easier to forgive him, would have found it easier to understand why he acted the way he did.

And that was why Hermione found herself frowning, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she looked from the photograph in her hand, to the gravestone before her. A cold breeze gently blew through her hair, causing goose bumps to rise up on the back of her neck. The cemetery was a Ministry one, relatively new and built after the war, specifically as a place where victims of the Final Battle could be laid to rest and commemorated. Hermione had walked past countless gravestones, countless names that she knew, that brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat. Fred Weasley, Remus and Tonks, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey... And many more, but their names just blurred before her eyes.

Mandy Brocklehurst's gravestone was a simple one, much like the others. Made of grey stone, with a silver engraving stating her name, dates and a short bible quote, there was nothing much to denote it from the others. Staring at it for a while, Hermione allowed a torrent of emotions and thoughts to storm through her, creating a whirlwind of complicated feelings that she could barely begin to describe. She had tried hard to picture the girl from the photograph in her hand, but all she could see was what she already seen in the pictures. There were no memories, no recollection of her from Hogwarts. Hermione supposed she was just someone she had never bumped into or met. There were plenty of others who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts that Hermione had never heard of before their names were listed during the memorial service a few weeks later, a thought that grieved her greatly.

A bunch of dying flowers lay on Mandy's grave; Hermione could see they had once been fresh pink and amber roses, but they were now brittle, dull and crisp from the frost. With a melancholic expression on her face, Hermione solemnly waved her wand and transformed them into a new wreath of roses, the petals bright and alive again. She let out a long sigh and let the hand that still held the moving photograph fall to her side; she was just about to turn to leave when a voice came from behind her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Hermione spun around, quickly wiping her watery eyes as she did so, giving her a slightly tearful, pale and wide-eyed look as she came face to face with the man she had said she never wanted to see again. "Carl," she said, her voice soft and plain. There no fight, or anger, or disdain there anymore. Just sadness and disappointment.

* * *

Severus Snape, quite simply, could not concentrate. He had tried everything, he had researched everything, he had tested everything, he had _done_ everything. And quite frankly, he was tired. He was bored of trying everything, of researching everything, of testing everything, of doing everything. His experiments were not simple, and required care, time and patience, and though Severus was loath to admit it, care, time and patience were three things he was running out of.

"Have you considered that perhaps there just isn't an answer?" Henrietta bravely asked, looking over at the defeated man in the chair across from her. She had once again found herself keeping him company in her little backroom of books, due to it being a slow day for customers, and her leg had begun to ache again, and her back a little, too.

Slowly, Severus turned his head to look at the old woman, his expression a little taken aback. "I...haven't, no," he said carefully, sounding like he was measuring every word, as though each one felt foreign on his tongue. "It is a possibility I may have to consider; however, in my experience, it is when there seems to not be an answer, that it is in fact somewhere you haven't yet looked and by deciding that it isn't there, you are merely being lazy and not looking everywhere."

Chuckling, Henrietta looked at him for a moment and, with another chuckle, turned back to the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. "You're certainly stubborn, my dear," she said, glancing back up at him. "But I thought you said you had looked everywhere."

Her eyes were twinkling in that unnervingly familiar way again, and Severus couldn't help but allow his lips to curl up very slightly into an ever so brief smile before his expression fell back into one of frustrated exhaustion again. "A figure of speech," he replied, sighing again. "There are very few experiments that I haven't tried, purely because logically and on paper, I'm convinced they wouldn't work, and they'd take up a lot of time. I occasionally think an assistant would be useful, but..."

Henrietta chuckled again. "Well, you better not ask me, dear, because not only do I have little practical knowledge of potions, I fear with my eyesight and what with my coordination and energy slipping away from me these days, a troll would be more use to you!"

Again, that half smirk, half smile graced his lips for a short moment before Henrietta added, looking at him with seriousness in her eyes now, "But I will tell you this, I've often found that those things that seem most illogical on paper, can magically be very powerful when brought into reality."

Silence fell in the small backroom as Severus mulled this over, and Henrietta sipped her coffee. After a few minutes he looked back up at her, "You think I should try the other few experiments then, even if I am sure they would be a complete disaster?"

Thinking for a moment, Henrietta pursed her lips and then nodded, giving him a knowing smile. "You never know, you might even find it easier and much more enjoyable if you had an assistant to help you."

"Hm," was all Severus said in reply as he fell back into deep thought again.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Carl asked her, both his voice and expression cold as his stony gaze slowly moved from her face, to the new flowers on Mandy's grave, and then back to her face again.

"I...I saw the photographs, and the letters, in that box you tried to come back for... Carl, I-"

"What are you doing here?" he repeated again, working up to a cold fury, icy rage flashing in his once warm, turquoise eyes. "You've got no right to be here, you've got no right to be putting fl-flowers on her grave."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said hurriedly, feeling tears well up in her eyes again as she looked at the anger and hurt on Carl's face as she stared at Mandy's gravestone. "I didn't mean to – I just, had to see, I thought..."

"Whatever you thought, you thought wrong!" he snapped at her, clutching his own roses tightly in his fist.

In a sudden moment of courage, Hermione stepped towards him and reached out a gloved hand, leaving it to hover by his arm for a moment before she hesitantly moved it back slightly, and then finally rested it gently on his arm. "Carl," she said, her voice calming and level as she met his gaze. "I know everything. I know you were with her at school, and during the war, I know you loved her, I know...I know she died." Hermione voice broke a little on the last word as she watched Carl's face fall; he gave up trying to be furious at her.

There was silence for a few more minutes as Hermione blinked back tears and stood by quietly as Carl placed down his own roses next to the ones she had conjured up. She watched, aching inside as he mournfully traced his fingertips over her name before straightening up and dragging his gaze back to meet hers. There was no fight there anymore, no violence, no fury or accusation. Hermione had no reason any longer to be afraid of him, or of what he might do.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her tearful voice barely above a whisper, for fear if she spoke any louder, her voice might break. "Why didn't you just tell me, Carl?"

Turning to look back at Mandy's grave, Carl stared down with hard eyes in silence for what felt like several painful years before he finally replied. "I thought it'd be okay...She was smart, like you, and practical and interested, forever curious..."

"You thought I'd do?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice, "You thought I'd do, as a replacement? As a consolation prize?"

Another few long moments of silence passed, the icy breeze still blowing through her hair and the branches of the nearby trees before eventually, Carl answered her question.

"Yes."

* * *

_**I only hope I've done the events of this chapter justice. There will be more to come soon, but in case I don't update before Sunday, which to be truthful is optimistic, I wish you all a Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. Thank you for reading, and you know the drill... Review and you are rewarded with cookies. Don't review, and well, not much happens really...I'm all out of threats. :P **_

_**X =D**_


	28. Better Left Unsaid

_**Wow, a pretty positive reaction to the last chapter, which I didn't expect, so thank you all very much! I'm glad you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing, and I hope that you'll like this next chapter!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Hm...let's think, do I own Harry Potter? Nope. Ask again next week, I'll work on it. :P **_

_**Chapter 28 – Better Left Unsaid**_

* * *

A long silence passed. Feeling almost vulnerable again under his steel gaze, Hermione turned her head to stare at Mandy Brocklehurst's gravestone, but still she could feel Carl's eyes boring into her, could still hear the raw honesty in his reply, echoing in her head.

_Yes._

Yes, he had thought she would do, as a consolation prize. Yes, he had loved Mandy more than her, if he had ever loved her at all. Yes, he had been using her to replace Mandy. Yes, he had been angry because it hadn't worked, because she hadn't been 'right'. Yes, yes, yes, yes, to all of those questions.

"Hermione?"

For the first time in a very long time, his voice possessed something Hermione had convinced herself he didn't have. Concern and... Well, he sounded almost... apologetic?

"Hermione?" he said again, and she heard him move closer to her. When she looked round, he was indeed stood a few steps nearer, but still, by no means close. His expression was unreadable, his eyes guarded.

"It's fine, Carl," she told him, but even she could hear the wobble in her voice; tears were brimming in her eyes, ignoring her inward, stubborn insistences that they weren't called for, that there was no reason for them. "Just leave it."

Carl looked almost pained for a moment as his gaze was torn between her face, and Mandy's grave. "I'm...sorry," he said. "But..."

A bittersweet, morose smile graced Hermione's features for a brief moment, showing him that as much as she didn't like it, she understood. "It doesn't change anything." She finished his sentence for him, nodding slightly as she swallowed audibly. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask – why had he done it? Why her? Was he okay? Did he need help? But there was no point, because really, how would knowing the answers to those questions change anything? It wouldn't. It would just prolong something that really needed to be laid to rest. So she didn't ask them; sometimes, there were things you would never know, and letting them go was the best thing to do – some things were better left unsaid.

Slowly, Carl shook his head and that was it. Silence descended again, and Hermione knew this was, truly, the end of the road. They had nothing more to say to each other. With one last glance at the gravestone, and the two lots of roses laid there, Hermione turned to leave. "I'm going now..." She bit her lip slightly, pausing. "Goodbye."

Carl dragged his gaze up to meet hers. "Goodbye."

And that was the end. Hermione turned and walked away, well aware that she was never going to see Carl again. They both had their own lives to get on with, new chances to start over, alone. Or, at least, without each other.

* * *

An assistant. It was a simple concept, really, and when he thought about it, a simple solution. It would lessen his workload considerably, and his experiments would be much quicker and easier. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Severus thought that taking an assistant for his research would be to his advantage. But... he had always worked alone. Always. Ever since a young age, he had never had anyone help him, not with anything. Partly because help had rarely been offered to him, so he wasn't used to it, and partly because he preferred it that way. His research was exactly that – it was _his_. It wasn't a matter of pride so much as a matter of privacy, really. He was, naturally, a private person, and having an assistant would mean letting a complete stranger into his home, allowing them to see his laboratory, ingredients, notes and theories...

But then, Severus thought, his brow furrowing slightly as he stared down at the firewhiskey in his glass, perhaps it wouldn't have to be a complete stranger, or a stranger at all for that matter... There was a certain someone with, he had to admit, a good knowledge of potions and, who had already seen his lab and helped him brew... _And_, he mused, a smirk appearing on his face, she definitely owed him a favour.

* * *

The last thing Hermione wanted to see when she arrived home that evening was Severus Snape stood at her door. Yet, as she approached her front door, there he was. Stood stiffly in the usual black robes, a look of obvious boredom on his face.

"Professor Snape," she said as she stopped in front of him, a mixture of surprise and dread in her tone. What could he possibly want now? Hers and Carl's quiet, absolute parting earlier that day still weighed heavy on her mind and she was well aware of a certain article that needed to be finished by the end of the week. The last thing she wanted was Snape to be on her case about something.

"Granger," he greeted, waiting, seemingly, for her to let him in.

Realising that he wasn't going to say anything until she let him in, Hermione sighed and performed the necessary charms to let them both pass through her wards. "So..." she said, turning to face him awkwardly once they were inside. "Do you...want a drink, or to sit down, or...anything?"

"No, thank you." He seemed to pause, as though he was about to say something more, but then fell silent again.

Hermione let out an audible sigh as she shrugged off her coat, feeling her patience wearing thin. "I'm sorry to be rude, Snape, but can you just spit it out? I've had a pretty shit day to be honest with you so if you're here to have a go at me for Merlin knows what, you can sod off. If you're here for something else, then get on with it."

Severus raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her abruptness. She sounded almost like...well, him, when he was in a terse, no-nonsense mood, which, when he had been teaching, had been pretty much all of the time. A million different sarcastic, derisive replies came to his tongue, but upon seeing the serious, 'zero patience' look on Hermione's face, he bit them back and said instead, "I'm here to ask you a favour, Granger." Pissing her off when he wanted something from her probably wasn't the best idea.

Now it was Hermione's turn to be taken aback. She knew she probably did owe him a favour, whatever it was, because he had helped her with the wards, but what could Severus Snape possibly want from her? She swallowed, looking at him warily. Why did she have a feeling she wasn't going to like this? "A favour?" she asked.

"Yes, Granger, a favour," he replied dryly, "I believe it's something someone does for someone else, to help them."

"You want me to help you?"

He sighed. "Granger, I'm aware that you're tired, angry and frustrated or whatever you are, but must you continue to repeat everything I say?"

Sighing again, Hermione ran a weary hand through her hair and looked back at her former Potions professor. "Sorry," she said, pushing her now dishevelled curls back from her face. "What sort of favour?"

"You are aware I do research, Granger, obviously," he said, with an almost unreadable expression on his face. Hermione frowned slightly, because the closest thing she could come up to identify it with was...amusement. He looked, very almost, amused at her stressed, frustrated state and irritated sighs. _Bastard_, she thought.

"No, I thought you were in pantomime, Sir."

Severus raised an eyebrow at the response, but ignored her. "I am currently working on developing a cauldron that would enhance the properties and potency of the potions being brewed in it, depending on what type they are. At the moment, I am looking into developing a cauldron to enhance healing potions, and that involves a lot of experiments. I have done many of these already, yet I seem..." he paused here, a grim expression on his face, as though he were about to admit a great personal failing, "To be drawing a blank every time. What I need, in order to help me carry out more experiments, is an assistant."

Hermione was, in a word, gobsmacked. An assistant? Her? She frowned; didn't he despise her? Wasn't she just the insufferable know-it-all who had come so rudely barging into his private life with her notebook and biro? "You...You want me to be your assistant?" she asked, once she had recovered the ability to speak. "You want me to help you with your research?"

"Yes," Severus replied, though he had a look on his face that told Hermione it was paining him a lot to say it. "You've seen my lab already; I know you can work well with me... And I don't know anyone else who could help me without having to have some kind of training or introduction first. I want to continue with my research straight away, and despite being an insufferable know-it-all..."

_Ah, there it is, _Hermione thought, smirking ever so slightly before Severus continued.

"You know your way around a potions lab, and more importantly, you know me. I won't, at least, be letting a complete stranger into my home."

A long silence passed, in which Severus stood with a stony, expectant expression, and Hermione just stared back at him, mind reeling. She knew he was only asking because there wasn't anyone else; he had only sought her help because it was a sure thing – she owed him, both for the wards, and the interview. However, in spite of those things, Hermione couldn't help but feel...honoured. If there was one thing she knew about Severus Snape, it was that he was a private man, and he worked alone. He did not go about letting ex-students into his lab to assist him with his research. Yet, he had asked _her_, an insufferable, know-it-all Gryffindor, who he claimed to not be able to stand.

True, becoming his assistant would take her mind off things, would keep her busy after work and at weekends (because she presumed he wasn't expecting her to quit her job), and it went without saying that she would learn a lot, and she would be _part_ of something. She missed that feeling of being useful, of working towards a goal for the better, and in assisting Snape with his research, she would certainly be useful again. But then, she thought of the disadvantages of accepting. She would have to spend long periods of time with Snape – sarcastic, insulting, snide, acerbic Snape. He would snap at her, and order her about, and generally be a complete arse, she knew. Hermione could just see it now – the experiments not working, something going missing – it would be her fault, naturally.

However... She found herself coming back to the advantages, the things she would learn, it would keep her busy, help her move on, make her feel of purpose and use to somebody again. Of use to herself, moreover.

"Granger, I am not going to stand here all evening waiting for you to make your mind up; I can practically hear the cogs whirring and I'm not partial to giving myself a headache."

Hermione looked up at Severus to see him turning to leave, an almost disappointed sort of impatience written all over his face. Before she could stop herself, the words were out. "I'll do it," she said, taking a step towards him. "I'll help you. So long as you mean after work, and at weekends. I'm not quitting my job."

He turned, and his face was blank – hell would freeze over should Severus Snape ever show he was glad, or grateful about something. "Of course not. I won't need you twenty-four-seven, Granger, Merlin forbid. I'll send you an owl when I require your assistance, and yes, I won't pull you out of work."

Nodding, Hermione have him a small smile. "Right, okay... Sure, sounds good..." she paused, biting her lip. "I won't let you down."

"Glad to hear it," Severus told her acidly, placing one hand on the door-handle. "I'll see you soon then, Granger."

"Yep...bye."

And with that he left, gently closing the door, robes billowing behind him, leaving Hermione reeling.

"Oh Merlin," she muttered to herself as she sank down onto the couch with a long sigh. "What the hell am I doing?"

* * *

_**So...hope that all went okay! Please tell me your thoughts, good or bad, and thank you all very much for reading!**_

_**X =D**_


	29. A Game for Two

_**Hey! Sorry this update is later than the last few have been – it's exam time for me at the moment, so I've been busy revising and whatnot. Managed to get this written and typed up though, so here you are, enjoy!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Still don't own Harry Potter, just a shit load of revision notes. :(**_

_**Chapter 29 – A Game for Two**_

* * *

Hermione stepped into Hestia's office the next morning with a wide grin on her face and a large, thick cream envelope held in her hands. She was practically buzzing with excitement, glad that she had finally finished the 'dreaded task'.

"Wow," Hestia said, looking up from where she had been filing a few forms away. "What's got you grinning? I haven't seen you this happy in ages."

Still smiling, Hermione stepped forwards and held the envelope out to her. "It's finished," she said.

Hestia took in the envelope, her eyes widening in anticipation as she stared at it. "It's done?" she asked, reaching out to take it.

"Once it's gone through editing, yes." Hermione sounded almost triumphant, before she paused and added hesitantly, "There is one thing though – one condition that Snape managed to come up with..."

Hestia sighed, the excitement on her face fading a little bit. "Go on; tell me what it is the greasy git's insisting on now."

Sharing a grim smile with her, Hermione said, "We have to wait to hear what he thinks. No-one from editing reads it, he said, until _he's_ read it."

Hestia rolled her eyes. "Oh good lord, have you sent him a copy yet then?"

"Sent it this morning."

"Yes, well," Hestia said grimly, "Don't be surprised when it comes back to you with a great big 'T' at the top of the page in red ink and a 'could have done better', the greasy git."

Stifling a laugh, Hermione smiled and shrugged slightly. "I don't think he'll be quite that hard on me, Hestia. And I don't think you should be so hard on him, either. He's not all bad. Do you have to call him a 'greasy git' at every opportunity?"

The older woman looked mildly surprised at Hermione for a moment. "And why ever not? You even agreed, Hermione, the man is a complete arse, war hero or not."

"I know," Hermione admitted with another small shrug. "I just don't think he deserves to be called a 'greasy git' all the time, that's all. Because he doesn't always act like a git, and his hair's really not that greasy – it just looked that way in the light of-"

"Whoa, whoa," Hestia laughed, holding both hands up in surrender. "I know, I know. Merlin, what's got into you? You know, anyone would think you were developing a little crush on the grea... Sorry, not-so-greasy-only-sometimes-a-git."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Hermione said hotly. "I'm just trying to give the man some respect that's all. He saved my life once, remember? More than once, probably." She shook her head in disbelief at Hestia, and then exited the office, leaving a laughing, but now ever so slightly suspicious boss behind her.

* * *

"What about Snape?" Harry asked, glancing up at Ron. "Or are you just hoping someone might bring him as their plus-one?"

"Not bloody likely," Ron snorted as he looked up from the pile of wedding invitations, masses of fancy parchment and gold ink. "I would invite the miserable bat, but every time either of us invites him to stuff, he just ignores us or tells us to stick our invites... Well, y'know..."

"Mhm," Harry agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "But then again, he told me to stick the wedding invitation there too when me and Ginny got married, but he turned up in the end."

"Only because McGonagall all but _imperiod_ him and forced him to go." Ron shrugged. "I dunno, it was different with you. He did what he did for _your_ Mum an' all... It's not really got much to do with me."

There was a pause, and then Harry sighed, put down the quill in his hand and said, "Okay, forget Snape for a second then. What about Hermione?"

Ron frowned. "What do you mean? Of course I'm inviting Hermione."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." Harry trailed off, wondering how best to put it. "It's just, you told me straight away when you got engaged and two or three weeks on, and you still haven't actually told her. Actually, how long as it been since you've spoken to Hermione at all?" Harry narrowed his eyes accusingly, remembering Hermione's surprise when she'd heard about the wedding from him, and not Ron.

Looking a little guilty, Ron looked down at the table again and started fiddling nervously with a corner of parchment. "I've been busy, I just..." He gave a sigh and looked back up at his best friend. "You know what I'm like; I'd say something to offend her or make her angry or something. I just find her hard to talk to ever since we decided to break up... It's not that I think she still has feelings for me or anything..." He shrugged, not quite knowing what else to say. There was a long silence in which neither of them said anything before Ron looked down, then up again. "I don't know, and it sounds weird, I might be wrong because you know how bad I am at judging stuff, but... We broke up because we decided we weren't compatible in that way... Well, those were her words, obviously, but... I've been thinking and... I think that might just be generally."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Shrugging again, Ron rubbed the side of his face, looking a little disgruntled. "Well, y'know... She said we weren't compatible in that way, and I just don't think we... I don't think we're all that compatible as friends anymore, either. Look at it this way – if it hadn't been for you, me and Hermione would never have been friends, let's be honest. She wouldn't have ever wanted to talk to me, and I probably wouldn't have been bothered about making friends with her either, if we hadn't both bumped into you on the Hogwarts Express... If things had been different, like..."

"That's not true, Ron," Harry said, but there wasn't much protest in his voice. He had heard the phrase 'it's all about you' being said too many times with him in mind during his lifetime, and he knew that wasn't what Ron was trying to say, but it still bothered him that as well as everything else, he was now thought of as the reason for a friendship sticking around for as long as it did. But if he thought about it, Harry had to admit that there was some truth in what Ron was saying.

"Well, I do get what you're saying, Ron, but..."

"No, come on. Face it, mate, it's true. If we took you, Voldemort and all that out of the equation, me and Hermione would never have said more than a few words to each other. And I know I shouldn't just ignore her now, and I'm not doing that..."

"Well I don't think it looks that way to her," Harry pointed out. "She was a bit miffed when I told her about the engagement. Not because she wasn't happy for you, because she was, but because you'd bothered to tell me and not her. I just think... I think she needs her friends at the moment. And that doesn't just mean me and Ginny."

Ron sighed, rubbing the side of his face again. "I know, I know... I didn't mean to act like she didn't exist or anything. Just didn't know what to do otherwise, you get what I mean? Felt like I might be rubbing it in 'er face or something. Get me?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. Either way, I think you should pay her a visit, or at least owl or floo her or something. Just let her know you didn't mean to not contact her... She won't see it as rubbing it in her face, where'd you get that from?"

"She'll get all huffy at me, I know she will."

"Ron," Harry said, sounding a little harsher. "So what? You ignored her, I know you didn't mean to upset her, but I think you did. Plus, what with everything with Carl..."

"Carl?" Ron asked with a frown. "Why, what's up with Carl?"

"Huh, what isn't up with Carl?" Harry gave a short, humourless laugh. "They split up, and it's a long story, but... Basically, he was going out with some girl called Mandy who died in the war and I don't know what exactly is wrong with him, but from the way Hermione was talking it sounds like he just never got over it. They kept having arguments and stuff, he was trying to replace this other girl with Hermione, Hermione thought he was cheating on her because he kept saying all this stuff and... Yeah, it was a bit of a mess really."

Ron's mouth had fallen open. "Bloody hell. I had no idea... And here I am, blanking 'er..." He let out a long groan. "I bet she's so mad at me..."

"Hm, I think she's had other stuff on her mind to be honest with you. Just go round and tell her you're sorry, have a catch up." Harry laughed. "She's not going to launch herself at you and beg you not to marry Gina. You're not that irresistible."

Rolling his eyes, Ron aimed a whack at Harry's head with a roll of parchment. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Shut up."

* * *

_Granger_

_6 o'clock. Don't be late. _

That was it. Just those few words on a scrap of parchment in the familiar spiky scrawl of her former Potions master. Sighing, Hermione put back on the cloak that she'd just taken off, and stepped back out the front door, which she hadn't even had a chance to close yet. Typical, this was. Just typical. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd had someone following her, so that he'd know to send an Owl just as she was about to get in and relax.

* * *

"You're late," were the first words out of Severus' mouth as he opened the door to her and stood there, blocking her way in.

Hermione checked her watch and looked back up at him. "By two minutes – the time it took for me to immediately apparate and walk here. I'm sure the potion hasn't boiled over and exploded in that time."

Severus merely arched an eyebrow in response and stepped back to let her in. "Bad punctuality, I can just about forgive, but cheekiness as well? My, my, we are being brave today, aren't we, Granger?"

Hermione looked down at herself, and then back up with a sarcastic smile on her face to rival the smirk on his own. "We? Last time I checked, I was one being. And yes, I'm a Gryffindor; bravery is kind of the defining feature."

A low growl of disapproval came from the back of his throat as, wordlessly, Severus walked to a door, opened it and descended the stone steps down into his basement laboratory. Hermione took the open door as an invitation to follow and did so, making sure she closed the door behind her. If a draft came through and knocked something over, which as sod's law dictated – it would should she leave it open, there would be to hell to pay.

Her right foot had barely touched the floor at the bottom of the steps when Severus said dryly, without even turning away from his cauldron to look at her, "Murgywort, Granger. And Hellebore extract whilst you're at it."

Suppressing the urge to sigh, Hermione crossed over to where the ingredients were kept and began searching for Murgywort and Hellebore. As soon as she'd found them and placed them silently on the workbench to the right of the Severus, he glanced at them and said, "Murglywort, Granger, not Murgywort. Are you hard of hearing now as well as being incapable of keeping your timing and attitude in check?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, bit back the protest that he _had_ in fact asked for Murgywort and picked up the vial. She made her way back to the ingredients stores, determined not to let him rile her. She was here to help him, and to learn things too. She would not let him get the better of her; she could do this, she had done it once before, and she would do it again, and again. Just to prove to him that she could work alongside him without being the insufferable know-it-all he labelled her as.

"And whilst you're over there again, Granger, can you please do something about your hair? I don't want a single bushy strand ending up in my potion or any of my ingredients. Understood?" His voice was dry, crisp and unforgiving, but unless Hermione was very much mistaken, she could have sworn she heard a hint of amusement underlying his tone. He was, evidently, enjoying winding her up. _Well_, Hermione thought with an almost Slytherin like smirk on her face, _Two can play at that game. _

And so it began.

* * *

_**Sorry, no more Severus and Hermione today! I promise the next chapter will be full of them though, so never fear...Grapes are here! :P Granger and Snape = Grape, get it? No? Okay then... :D Don't know if anyone else uses that term, but I just came up with it! Anyway, ramble to nowhere finished with, thank you very much for reading and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	30. Not Sorry

_**Hi, sorry for the delay with this once again – exams, revision, etc. Anyway, here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Thank you all for your reviews and good luck wishes for my exams. **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. :P**_

_**Chapter 30 – Not Sorry**_

* * *

Quickly charming her hair into a neat bun at the back of her head, Hermione picked up the Murglywort and took it back over to the table where he was working. "So what are we brewing?" she asked.

Severus didn't reply straight away. He added the Murglywort, stirred the potion three times and watched it turn a dull shade of copper before saying, "_I_ am carrying out an experiment that may or may not further my research into making a cauldron that could enhance the properties of any healing potion brewed in it. _You_, Granger, are assisting."

"Well I'm afraid I can't be a very good assistant if I don't know what exactly it is we-_you_ are brewing. Can't I at least see your notes, so I can get a general idea of what's going on?"

He smirked as he carefully poured in all of the hellebore extract. "Well since I have to let this simmer for twenty minutes now, you may. My notes are on that table there."

Hermione frowned, instantly suspicious of the way he had so quickly given in and let her have what she wanted. "I suppose you've cursed them so they'll burn anyone who touches them but you or something."

"And why ever would I do that, Granger?"

Giving his knowing smirk a mistrusting glance, Hermione made her way over to the table where his notes were set out. "To annoy the hell out of me, perhaps?" she muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?" Severus asked dryly, keeping one eye on her and the other on his potion.

"I _said_," Hermione told him in a sickly sweet voice, "Because you're a brilliantly clever potions brewer who wouldn't want a lowly assistant like me reading his notes, perhaps?"

There was a silence as Severus' lip curled distastefully, and then he said, "I think you'll find the correct term is potions _master_, but nevertheless, Granger, carry on."

Hermione very almost muttered 'don't mind if I do' under her breath, but thought better of it just in time and turned her attention to Severus' research notes. After quickly casting a curse detecting charm, Hermione picked them up and began to skim read, knowing she wouldn't have time to read them all thoroughly before he asked her to do something. It was silent in the lab for the next few minutes, the light from the many candles in the room flickering on the stone walls. Hermione could feel Severus watching her, his gaze boring through her as she read his notes, but she ignored him.

"Are you quite done, Granger, or would it be too much trouble for you to fetch me the silver vial from over there, next to where the unicorn hair is hanging?" Severus asked, snidely interrupting her, sarcasm dripping from the false politeness in his voice.

Turning around with a sweet smile on her face that matched his voice for sarcasm, Hermione said, "Of course it wouldn't be too much trouble. Is the contents of the silver vial by any chance the indicator you have specially adapted to let you know if your experiment has worked or not?"

Severus glared at her. "A sweet and polite disposition doesn't become you, Granger. Now for once just do as you're told."

And so, it carried on. Severus continued to ask Hermione to do things, whilst subtly insulting her at the same time, and Hermione continued not to rise to his taunts. She had realised that a sugary smile and insincere flattery generally did the trick and let him know that his comments didn't affect her, so she stuck to that.

* * *

He had known this would be a bad idea. A ridiculous, foolish, terrible idea. His snide comments and slipped-in insults just didn't have the same affect on her anymore; a few years ago, a stony glare and blatant ignorance as to the quality of her potion would be enough – an 'E' on the top of a piece of homework would do it, even. She still did as he said, obviously, or he would have thrown her out ten minutes in, and she did it well, he was loath to admit. She fetched him the right things, measured and weighed things out for him even when he didn't ask, and she was efficient and diligent in everything she did. She was exactly as she had been when they were healing Henrietta except now, with attitude. Yes, Severus thought to himself with an inward groan, Hermione Granger had finally found her voice. His jibes and taunts did nothing anymore but earn him a false smile, or equally sarcastic retort.

She knew exactly how to handle him, and it was infuriating him greatly. It didn't matter what he said, the things he touched on, the way he tried to gain one over on her, she just didn't rise to it. And it was beginning to result, quite horribly, quite horrifically, in a grudging respect for the girl-woman, who was mature enough not to let him get to her.

* * *

They had been working in comparative silence for the last ten minutes, her preparing and handing him ingredients, he adding them to the potion in whichever way necessary. One thing had been playing on Hermione's mind all night, one question she had been dying to ask.

"Have you had chance to read the article yet?"

Severus paused in what he was doing, glanced slightly at her, then returned his focus back to the potion they were brewing. "Not yet, Granger, no."

"Well, it's just..." She swallowed, well aware of the fact that they had, somehow, managed to get along, in a way, so far, and she didn't want to ruin it and make him angry now. "We have to release the article on the first of February, which is only a week away, and before that it has to go through editing and be combined with the other parts of the paper. I don't mean to hurry you, but..."

"Stop being polite, Granger and spit it out."

"I need you to read it as soon as possible and tell me whether it's acceptable or not," she said, all in one breath. She stared straight ahead for a moment, and then glanced tentatively at him. His face was no more irritated than usual. "And, if it isn't, I need you to tell me what it is you're not happy with. I'm kind of working to a deadline here."

Severus' lips set in a thin line, his expression blank and stony as ever. "Are you telling me what to do?" he asked, sounding neither displeased nor pleased.

"N-no...Just that the article does need to go through editing and we've only got a week until this goes to print." She realised she was reverting back to her old self – not wanting to offend anyone, constantly apologetic. The Hermione who had been with Carl.

"Basically, Snape," she said, standing up a little straighter and reminding herself that she had nothing to lose anyway. He couldn't give her detention, or dock house points anymore. The worst he could do was throw her out, and that wouldn't bother her, it would only inconvenience him because he would be left without an assistant. "I need you to stop playing games with me, read the article as soon as you can, preferably tonight or tomorrow morning, and then send me an owl telling me honestly what you think of it. And if you're considering picking out silly things and criticising them just to spite me, you can forget it. I need your honest opinion, and I need it quickly."

He was, in a word, stunned. And rather worried that this was becoming a frequent occurrence with her, in particular. What was it about Hermione Granger that never failed to surprise him? He could say what he liked about her – know-it-all, goody-two-shoes, the works – but in truth, she wasn't anywhere near that predictable at all. There was a long silence in which they stared, defiantly at each other, before Severus finally said, "I've told you before, Granger, you really should keep your manners in check. If you can't be courteous to me, then you can leave."

She made a small dismissive sound with her tongue that reminded him fleetingly of Minerva. "Yes, and then you tell me that politeness doesn't become me. And I don't think I was being rude, just making you aware that I'm working to a deadline. Not to mention the fact that if you do tell me to leave, then that's hardly any bother for me, is it? That just leaves me with evenings to myself, and you without an assistant again."

He glared at her for a while longer, his lips pressing into a thin line again as he studied her almost triumphant expression. There was, in short, nothing really to say in reply to her little speech, because she was right. Throwing her out wasn't really an option, because he needed an assistant, and she was rather good at it. And so, with one final glare, Severus turned and silently returned to his potion, leaving a sense of finality to their discussion hanging in the air.

A small smile crept across Hermione's face as he turned away and inside her head, a little voice whispered 'Hermione – one, Snape – zero.'

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione was relaxed on her couch, happily, and ever so slightly triumphantly, nursing a glass of red wine, when the flames in her fireplace crackled, and promptly turned green. Wondering who could want to be flooing her at ten o'clock in the evening, when everyone she knew must have better things to be doing, Hermione got up and went to kneel in front of the fireplace. After a while, a familiar face emerged in the flames.

"Ron?"

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Hi, Hermione."

A little confused still, Hermione smiled. "Hello. What do you want?"

"Why do you always assume I want something?"

Hermione laughed at the look on his face. "Because no-one floos me at ten o'clock at night, especially not you, Ron, unless they want something."

"Yeah, well, I..." He seemed to glance down, looking a little guilty. "I don't want anything, actually. I, erm, wanted to apologise."

She frowned. "Apologise for what?"

He rubbed the side of his nose, the typical disgruntled Weasley expression settling on his face as the flames crackled and flared around him. "Well, Harry thinks I've been ignoring you a bit lately, an' I guess I have, so...just wanted to say sorry, you know, for not telling you about me and Gina getting married. Don't really know why I didn't tell you, I just..."

Hermione sighed, thought about arguing the point, and then decided there was no need. What would it achieve, really? She wasn't angry at Ron for not telling her – he was useless when it came to judging situations, and he had the tact of an irritated elephant most of the time. His actions didn't really surprise her. "Ron, it's fine, don't worry about it. I've had a lot on my plate, anyway. I'm really happy for you and Gina."

Ron gave her his usual lopsided grin. "Okay well, yeah...sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Ron, it's fine. Get back to Gina, okay? I was just going to bed, anyway."

Nodding, Ron grinned again as his head began to fade from the flames. "Oh, and Hermione?"

"Yeah?" she asked, moving to get up.

"I'm sorry...about you and Carl."

She shrugged and picked up her empty wine glass as she stood up. "I'm not," she replied, and she meant it.

* * *

_**Sorry it couldn't be longer, but I thought that was a good place to leave this chapter! I hope it was okay for you, thank you for reading and as always, reviews are more than welcome!**_

_**X =D**_


	31. High Praise Indeed

_**Wow, I can't believe I've got past 30 chapters, and 400 reviews! Thank you all so much for your comments and support, it is very much appreciated. Now this chapter kind of marks what I like to think of as the transition between 'part one' and 'part two' of the story – there's a bit of a time jump after this chapter, and it sort of signals that the past, the Carl relationship and the original article subject is kind of being moved on from, and both Hermione and Severus have reached a newer stage to their lives, if that makes sense. Hopefully, anyway, that's what will be coming across. Now I don't want to make this author's note too long (I am prone to ramble, aren't I? :P) but I also just want to quickly apologise for the wait for this chapter – again, exams and such got in the way, but they're pretty much finished now and it's nearly summer! Yay! Anyway, I will shut up now and let you read the chapter!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Think we've gathered I don't own Harry Potter... :P**_

_**Chapter 31 – High Praise Indeed**_

* * *

"Any word from Snape yet?"

Hermione sighed and lifted her eyes up to look at Hestia. She was sat at her desk in the _Phoenix_ offices, one hand propping up her head as she checked through a few articles for that day's paper before having them sent to editing. "Not since you asked ten minutes ago, no."

Hestia pursed her lips and shifted the papers held in the crook of her left arm to her right. "Do you think I should-?"

"No," Hermione told her tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "I think I kind of pushed it last night when I demanded a speedy opinion from him – he'll get in touch by the end of the day, I'm sure. And if he doesn't, I'll send an owl along, but not before then."

The editor-in-chief looked a little unconvinced still, but sighed and nodded anyway. "Okay then, but you better do if he doesn't let us know by five. I need that article in editing by tomorrow lunchtime – latest. And if Snape doesn't want to cooperate, then it can go there without his say so, end of."

Hermione gave a slightly weary smile and nodded, her eyes dropping back to the article she was working on. "Sure thing." As Hestia walked away, she brought her hands up to rub her eyes, stifling a yawn at the same time. She wasn't sure what it was that had her so tired – perhaps the slightly too warm, stuffy office she was in, the late night Floo from Ron, or maybe her working in Snape's laboratory for hours was what had her feeling worn out. Hermione decided it was probably a combination of the three, and got up to make herself a coffee in the vain hope of being able to stay awake until five o'clock, when she could happily apparate home and collapse in bed.

* * *

Hermione watched the clock anxiously, the minute hand moving in a torturously slow fashion, inching closer and closer to signal ten to five. There were ten minutes left until the end of the working day – for them at least – and there was still no word from Snape. Mixing with the annoyance she felt towards him for not having the courtesy to do as she had asked, probably out of mere spite and a desire to be infuriating rather than not having the time, Hermione also felt quite nervous too. She was anxious to see what he thought of the article – her interview with him, in particular. It was good, she knew it was... She wouldn't have even dared finish and give it to him if she didn't have at least some faith in its quality. But knowing him he would think she had revealed too much, worded something the wrong way, put across an impression that wasn't entirely correct. She sighed, and shifted in her chair to prop her head up with her other hand. Her eyes remained glued to the clock, her teeth chewing thoughtlessly on her bottom lip.

Just as the minute hand was inching closer and closer to signal five o'clock, and the tension was rising up inside her, an owl swooped majestically into the office and dropped a small scrap of parchment onto Hermione desk.

She jumped, jerking upright as her eyes flickered from the large, dark and elegant owl sat patiently on the corner of her desk, to the small note in front of her. She had to refrain from rolling her eyes – typical. Here she had been, here they had _all_ been, waiting all day for his holy opinion, and what did he send? A note. A few words on a scrap of parchment which Hermione was sure had just been torn from a bigger piece of something else. Nonetheless, this was his opinion of the article, and the words they needed to push ahead for their deadline in a few days time at the end of January.

Everyone in the office had immediately noticed the owl's presence, and there was no doubt as to who could have sent it. Soon everyone was gathered around Hermione's desk, peering anxiously and impatiently at her as she picked up the note, read it, then looked up.

She gave them all a wry smile, and in her voice there was a clear note of relief, with what Hestia could have sworn was an undertone of amusement. "He says it'll do," she told them, barely suppressing a relieved laugh as she spoke his words aloud.

Those who had known Snape either from Hogwarts or from the Order chuckled, rolled their eyes and migrated back to their desks to pack up and head home for the day. Hestia lingered, screwing the top back on ink she was carrying. "Typical," she said, looking down at Hermione as she waved her wand, causing all the things on her desk to come together and organise themselves away. "But, it's an answer. I'll send the article down to editing, and we can hopefully have it ready by the thirty-first." She grinned at Hermione. "Good work, by the way."

Looking at Hestia as she stood up, Hermione grinned back and shouldered her bag, the small scrap of parchment from Snape still held in her hands. "No problem, and I think it was the best response we could have gotten from him to be honest."

Hestia laughed and agreed. "You're right. An 'it'll do' from Severus Snape is high praise indeed!" She flicked her own wand towards the desk in her office and summoned her bag and cloak before looking back at Hermione. "Come on, this deserves a celebratory drink. On me."

Hermione grabbed her own cloak. "Well I can't argue with that," she said, and followed Hestia out of the office and down the corridors to the outside world, where the weak sun was just beginning to set behind the London skyline. As she walked slightly behind Hestia, Hermione lowered her eyes again to the note in her hands and smiled, shaking her head in disbelief, all semblance of tiredness dispelled. It read,

_I've certainly read worse things about myself, Granger. It'll do. Good work._

_S. Snape. _

And all the way to the nearby pub, Hermione wore a small, secretive smile on her face, for reasons she wasn't quite sure of but didn't matter anyway. He liked it. Severus Snape liked her interview, and the article. Of course he hadn't said that in so many words, but whilst she certainly didn't profess to know him very well, she knew him enough to know that that was what he meant by his words. And for that reason, Hermione smiled, and weirdly looked forward to the next time she would be summoned to help him with his potions research.

* * *

Severus sighed and sat back on his sofa, a glass of firewhiskey in one hand and the copy of the upcoming _Phoenix _article held in the other. His eyes fell lazily to it for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and he considered the reply he had sent her way.

It was, he hoped, enough to satisfy both her and the former Auror, but not enough to completely show how good a piece of work he actually thought it was. Because it was, Severus felt loath to admit, a very good piece of writing. Not that he could say that. But as he _had_ said, he had definitely read worse things about himself. True, Granger hadn't painted him as some sort of potions genius, medical hero or some other such nonsense, but neither had he wanted to be portrayed that way. But at the same time, she hadn't made him out to be a complete arse, which he knew sometimes he was and quite right too, and she hadn't written anything demeaning, exposing or private about him either – not that she could possibly know anything about him of that manner to write.

When Granger (because he had settled on simply calling her that instead of worrying about the girl/woman dilemma) had first come knocking on his door, seeking an interview and bothering him until he gave in, Severus knew he would come to sorely regret the day he finally granted her one. He hated publicity, hated people thinking of him as some hero success story, trying to redeem himself for sins he had already been acquitted and/or forgiven of... In the case of most people, at least. But thinking about it now, and skimming over the article one last time before he tossed it aside onto the coffee table, Severus decided that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. What he had created – the _Recro Memoria _potion – was an achievement, and a bloody good one at that. Was it so bad that he should receive recognition? Of course, he didn't have to openly accept it, and he had already taken the decision to not bother venturing out for a few days after the article was released, but still, it wouldn't be so bad.

And so with that, Severus leant back a little further, relaxed, and swallowed a mouthful of firewhiskey, letting out a sigh as it slipped down his throat. Swirling the remains around in the bottom of the glass, he noticed a small, self-satisfied sort of smirk-smile creep across his face and try as he might to suppress it, he couldn't. And in the end he just let it rest there as he finished off the last of his firewhiskey and absently found himself wondering when he'd next need Granger to come round to assist him with his research...

* * *

_**So, we are now embarking on what I'm sort of unofficially marking as 'part two' of the story. I want to thank you all again for your reviews so far, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please keep the feedback coming. Thanks for reading!**_

_**X =D**_


	32. Knight In Shining Armour

_**All I seem to be doing of late is saying sorry for late updates, but it just seems to be the way life is at the moment. I was in Germany all last week – it was my first time there, and I have to say I really enjoyed it, though I wasn't mad on the food. :P Anyway, have found time between getting back from Germany, and preparing to go away again to France on Wednesday to write this next chapter. Thank you all so much as always for your endlessly encouraging reviews, you really all are the best readers any writer could ask for. So without further ado, here you go! :D**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. :(**_

_**Chapter 32 – Knight in Shining Armour**_

* * *

On the thirty-first of January, the _Phoenix_ article on Severus' _Recro Memoria_ potion was published, and the weeks that followed were a flurry of media hype and attention. The whole Wizarding world was alight with talk of the miraculous new potion; St. Mungo's and the Ministry was overwhelmed with patients and requests and media swarms from Wizarding populations across the globe; for a while journalists from Wizarding papers and magazines could be found congregating in the cold on Severus' street, poorly disguised as Muggle tourists and waiting for a chance to catch a picture, a few words, anything to help them muscle in on the big new story. Needless to say, Severus didn't leave the house for the first week, and for a while after that, he only ever apparated under the influence of a disillusionment charm. It was now that he began to feel the regret he knew he would eventually feel, the contempt towards his decision to let Granger have the stupid interview, or let the _Phoenix_ write an article in the first place. Still, he managed. For a private man, not going out certainly wasn't anything difficult, or new.

The _Recro Memoria_ potion was big news. _Huge_ news, for victims of Obliviate charms and other such curses around the world. Suddenly, memory loss wasn't such a big problem anymore. People were cured, families put back together, lives rebuilt around the restored memories of people who just days before, had struggled to remember their loved ones' faces, their children's voices, the jokes of their friends and images of their lives. For countless numbers of people, some who had been victims of the raids carried out by Death Eaters after the fall of Voldemort, photographs had meanings again, a face had a name, a voice triggered a memory. Those whose memories, and lives, had been dismantled and blasted into pieces, had them repaired and healed. Their memories came back, they _remembered_ again. And everyone and anyone in the Wizarding World who was even the slightest bit touched by what was being hailed as the 'Miracle Memory' potion, wanted a piece of the action, wanted to know just a little bit more about the man responsible.

At the _Phoenix_ offices, Hestia, Hermione and the rest of the team were rushed off their feet. Letters from readers and other newspapers flooded in, the beat of owls' wings and the sound of their hoots was an almost constant soundtrack now; and it was a miracle, Hermione thought, that they were still managing to churn out the regular newspaper everyday in amongst the chaos. For the first few weeks, she was like the walking dead, writing and reading, editing and checking, replying to letters, talking to heads of other newspapers who wanted in on the story. And even when the office was closed, life didn't stop. Hermione had taken to having to take her work home with her in order to get any articles written at all; if she didn't, the _Phoenix_ was going to fall behind, even if the story of Severus Snape's new potion was taking over and swamping any other current affairs story there was to cover. Life was, in short, hectic.

The man himself stayed well hidden throughout the media explosion, and for the first two weeks after the article was released, Hermione didn't see or hear from him at all regarding the research she was assisting him with. She hadn't even had chance to call in on Henrietta to get any new books, not that she had time to read them at the moment, or to ask her if she had seen the Potions Professor either. Hermione felt like a robot for the first two weeks, going through the motions, doing her job, rushing here, there and everywhere, collapsing into bed late every night, and rising early again the next morning. The relief that rushed through her as the hype began to slow down and decrease ever so slightly was unbelievable; the world began to very gradually revert back to normal as people got used to the idea. A miracle, Hermione supposed, was like any other novelty – it eventually wore off. And wear away it did. The Wizarding World slowly found other things to talk about, newspapers discovered new stories to cover, and after those two weeks of insanity, Hermione watched with endless relief as life returned to normal, and she started to feel less like a robot, and more like a human being again.

* * *

Things truly hit her when she woke up one Saturday morning to look at the calendar, and noticed with a strange sense of apathy that it was Valentine's Day. She stared at it, stood there in jeans, fluffy socks to keep her feet warm and a thick, loose-fitting jumper, and tried to feel...something. It was strange because somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione had thought that out of all the days, this would be the one that would make her feel some sort of regret towards how her life was now. She had thought, without really thinking it at all, that perhaps Valentine's Day would remind her of Carl, of the roses he'd buy her, the way they'd go out for dinner together, and come back pleasantly drunk... just another normal couple. But... as Hermione stared at the tiny heart next to the number fourteen on her calendar, none of those images or emotions came to her. She just stood there with a strange sense of apathy inside her, yet at the same time, something else too. Like relief, but happier, a sort of acceptance. Because, Hermione realised, Valentine's Day or no Valentine's Day, she didn't need Carl, some knight in shining armour, or anyone in the place of him, to make her happy. What was wrong with her life as it was?

She had a job she loved; despite how busy and tired it could make her, an apartment she felt at home in, brilliant friends, and she was involved in something she never thought she would be able to be a part of. She would never admit it, but now the hype around him had gone, she lived for the days a large owl would land on her window ledge, with a note in her former Professor's familiar, spiky scrawl, requesting her to come and assist him with his research. Helping him with his research was like an escape from real life, he was rescuing her from the busyness of her job, in a way. She loved reading through his notes, adding her own ideas out loud – he would say nothing when she did this, but somehow, Hermione knew he wasn't ignoring what she was saying. And she relished any opportunity to brew with him – watching Severus Snape at work over a cauldron was fascinating, and she had learnt so much simply from observing the way he would hold his knife, the way his wrist would twist, elegantly, as he stirred a potion in order to create a smooth a turn as possible.

Hermione was endlessly thankful that he had never caught her staring at the way he would bring his eyebrows together as he leaned over the cauldron to check the potion's colour or consistency, or how he would expertly tilt a bottle as he added a liquid to the potion so that no excess would drip from the rim, or the way his long fingers curled around the vials he bottled all of their experiments in, holding them securely so they could never drop to the floor and shatter, the way his tall frame moved swiftly and somewhat gracefully around the laboratory, the fluid motions of his long arms as he brewed, the look of reverent concentration on his face...

Once, Hermione had absentmindedly found herself thinking of the way he brewed as an art form, a show that she was endlessly fascinated by, that she could never grow tired of. Through assisting him as he brewed and carried out his research, Hermione had learned to gain a new sort of respect for Severus Snape that went beyond her admiration for the sacrifices he had made for their side in the war. It was a respect for the man himself, the person exposed to her when he was brewing, a respect for the professionalism with which he did his job and the endless knowledge and skill he seemed to possess.

And it was these sorts of thoughts, not ones of Carl or roses or tall, dark and handsome strangers on white horses, which found themselves absently drifting to the forefront of Hermione's mind as she tore her eyes away from the date on the fourteenth of February and set about making herself some breakfast. Stretching up to retrieve a mug for her tea, she heard the familiar low hoot of an owl behind her and, mug in hand, Hermione turned to see a dark, majestic looking owl sat on her window ledge – one she was getting all too used to of late.

With an automatic smile coming to her face, Hermione set down the mug in her hands and left the kettle boiling as she made her way over to lift up the large sash window and allow the owl to hop in. She fed him a small treat and took the parchment from around his leg, watching as he spread his wings and took off into the overcast morning sky before closing the window again. Her eyes fell to the note in her hands.

_Granger, _

_Come over as soon as you can, immediately would be nice. I think I've found something. _

With all thoughts of breakfast abandoned, Hermione left the note on her windowsill and rushed through to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, and looking more presentable, she grabbed her wand and apparated as close as she dared to Severus' street. For the past week or so their experiments and research had gathered pace – they were beginning to get closer to finding something that had a chance of working, but every time they did, something happened, and the experiment failed at the last hurdle. The last sentence of his short note gave Hermione hope, devoid as it was of any sarcasm or abruptness. 'I think I've found something' sounded positive, and the fact that they might finally be getting somewhere further caused a strange sense of excitement to build up inside her as she raised her hand eagerly to knock on his front door.

* * *

"Granger, I did think immediately might be too much to ask," Severus said dryly as he admitted her in and quickly closed the door, not wanting to let the February cold in.

Hermione was just about to roll her eyes and come back at him with an equally sardonic retort, when she clocked the items gathered in an unceremonious heap by the door way and stopped dead. Looking at Severus inquisitively, she pointed a finger to the pile and asked, "What are they?" He gave no reply, but his lips tightened and his expression was not amused. Hermione's, however was, as she peered closer at the objects he had dumped by the door and fought hard to restrain a smile. She looked back up at him. "They're gifts, and cards," she said, her eyes dancing as she stifled a chuckle at his glare. She knew she shouldn't laugh, that doing so would probably result in angering him further and even causing a few silencing charms to be thrown her way. Eventually though, the pile of red, pink and white, his serious expression and warning glare proved too much, and she burst out laughing.

"People have sent you Valentine's Day gifts!"

Severus stood there, watching her laugh for a brief moment, his own gaze flickering to the ridiculous, offensive items gathered in a heap by his front door. He had meant to throw them out before she arrived. "Yes," he said tersely, his tone sharp and alluring as ever as Hermione's laughter ceased, the amusement still clear on her face, "According to one of my admirers, I am a knight in black, shining armour, and all I need is a princess to rescue. I am assuming that the woman concerned is hoping to become said princess. The others say things along the same lines, some of them quite disturbing."

* * *

_**Thought I might have a bit of fun at the end there with Valentine's Day. :P I'm not one hundred percent happy with the first half of this chapter, but I didn't want to dwell too long on the days surrounding the release of the article and wanted to get onto what this story is really about – Severus and Hermione, of course. Anyway, I hope it was okay, and anything that needs improving, let me know! Thanks for reading. **_

_**X =D**_

_**P.S - Have any of you seen the new movie yet? I went to see it yesterday, and absolutely loved it! Though I cried like an absolute baby as Severus was killed, and all the way through those heartbreaking memories of Lily, much to my friends' incredulity. :'(**_


	33. Silver and Gold

_**Hello again! Thank you all as always for your encouraging reviews; I won't annoy you with a long, rambling author's note again. Here's the new chapter, enjoy!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or places or themes or... I just basically don't own a whole lot of anything. :D **_

_**Chapter 33 – Silver and Gold**_

* * *

His basement laboratory was in a state Hermione had never seen it in before. Usually it was pristine, ordered to the point of obsession; there was a place for everything and everything was in its place, and Merlin forbid you dare to disrupt that. But now, the sight that met Hermione's eyes was quite a different one. There were cauldrons everywhere, some bubbling, some steaming, some not seeming to be doing a whole lot of anything but all with some concoction or another in them. Ingredients, vials, chopping boards, knives and other instruments were scattered across the work bench too. His notes were all on different tables, the pages separated, and his normally so tidy shelves looked to be in disarray, some bottles on their side having been knocked over in Severus' haste to find the ingredients he wanted. Some of the cauldrons had even overflowed in places, the cooled potions setting onto the wooden surface in hard blobs of different colours.

"Merlin," Hermione said, surveying the lab, "What the hell happened in here? It looks like fifth year with Neville all over again."

To her surprise, she heard him chuckle behind her – a short, low, dark chuckle that came from deep within his chest and sounded genuinely amused. What surprised her more was that she found herself laughing a little along with him.

"I'd like to think it's not quite as horrific as that, Granger." He stepped forwards, waving his wand as he did so. Some of the ingredients and vials he didn't need anymore tidied themselves away, and the cauldrons that had overflowed cleaned themselves up, but the basement room still looked like a mess. "I'm afraid this is what happens when you're forced to work by instinct when something happens with an experiment that you hadn't counted on."

Hermione looked around again, a little disbelievingly still, and then turned her head towards him. "And what was it you hadn't counted on happening here?"

Severus looked at her, expression betraying no hint of sarcasm, and said dryly, "I hadn't counted on it working."

There was a beat, before her face broke out into a grin and she bounced up slightly on her toes. "It worked? What was it, what did you do? Do you think this could be the combination we need?" Eagerly, she moved towards the cauldron in the middle of the workbench, the largest one that was still steaming and seemed to be the centre cause of the chaos around it. She peered inside, and then quickly withdrew. "Urgh! I don't know what's in there, Snape, and it might be what we've been looking for, but it's disgusting." She moved around to the other side of the workbench and started wandering around, looking at all the other cauldrons and ingredients scattered around.

Sighing tersely, Severus pierced her with his gaze once she turned around to face him, bringing her to a quiet standstill. "Once you've stopped acting like an overexcited first year, Granger, then I might feel compelled to answer your questions."

She bit her lip briefly, rocked back on her heels, and then grinned at him. "Sorry."

Amazing, Severus thought. Just when he had come to respect her as an adult, just as he had started to think of her more as a grown-up, intelligent woman, more than capable of assisting him with his research, she did this. She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement, a huge grin on her face, body tensed as though ready to burst. The look of almost childish delight on her face took him slightly by surprise; the newly formed adult version of Granger who he had somehow come to have some form of respect for was drifting from his thoughts a little way, and the glee on her face reminded him of how young she still was. Intelligent, sensible and efficient, yes, but... God, she was so _young_. And for some reason, Severus realised as he looked at her, that that thought bothered him. It caused a weird feeling to stir up in the pit of his stomach, and some voice wordlessly said in the back of his head that he should be ashamed of himself. What for, he had no idea.

He realised she was looking at him a little worriedly now, and that he had been looking at her with a perplexed frown on his face for the past few seconds. "It's been under our noses the whole time," he said, and his annoyance at having missed the obvious for so long seeped through to his words. Severus Snape was not usually one for missing the 'obvious'. "I knew that both silver and gold have superior properties when it comes to brewing, hence the desirability and rarity of silver and gold cauldrons already in existence. However-"

Hermione's grin spread wider – something Severus didn't think possible, her eyes lighting up as she finished his sentence for him. "We never thought of combining them!" She let out an amazed huff of breath. "Of course. Like you said, it's been under our noses the whole time! Here we've been combining silver with different stuff, and combining gold with different stuff, and we never thought to mix them with each other!" She shook her head. "Typical. So what happened, then? The indicator came back positive, I presume, and then you went from there...?"

Annoying as it was, her eager excitement was somewhat infectious and Severus nodded, stepping forwards to gesture towards the large cauldron Hermione had peered into first. "It worked, Granger, correct. But there are complications that mean it won't work for the purpose we need it for, at least, not without a third component."

"They didn't react well together?"

Shaking his head once, Severus brought down the heat under the cauldron with his wand before continuing. "The mess you see here is merely an aftermath. You should have seen it before. When I combined the silver and gold, the reaction was more than a little explosive." He grimaced at her, and Hermione caught the slight look of irritation in his eyes. Not irritation at her, but at himself. "To paraphrase your words from earlier, it was like Longbottom all over again."

Hermione winced. "It was that bad?"

Severus had turned away from her now, his wand causing more vials and materials to fly across the room and tidy themselves away. "I pride myself that it wasn't any worse. But as you well know, Granger, we now have a problem on our hands. Silver and gold in the Muggle world are not volatile substances, and even used in jewellery in our world, they're not. In fact they're used because they are some of the least reactive metals to be found. However, as soon as you bring magic to their properties, the chemistry changes entirely and they become dangerously reactive with each other."

Nodding, Hermione took out her own wand to help clear more of the mess away. They talked as they tidied, restoring the laboratory to its former order and pristine state. "We need a third component to neutralise the reaction, but this third substance would need to have an effect on healing potions as well, in order for the combination to still be effective enough to make a cauldron that will enhance healing remedies... Is that what you were trying to do, find a third component?"

"Yes. As you can probably guess I've been unsuccessful, which is why I called you here. However now we have a base for our research, we know what we're looking for next and can carry out more focused research and theory work into finding a third component." With one final flourish of his wand, Severus stopped and surveyed their handiwork, looking around the lab - clean, neat and good as new again.

Hermione gave him a smile, excitement still clear in her expression. She had never realised how exhilarating it would feel – to be part of discovering something, to be getting somewhere and working towards a goal, to be looking for knowledge again.

"You've been doing your research at Henrietta's, haven't you? Do you think I could...start coming with you now? To take notes and things, I mean. I can help, like I do here." She tugged a little nervously on the ends of her sleeves. "I know you prefer taking notes and doing research and things like that alone, but we'd get through more books with two of us, so maybe we'd get closer to finding a third component quicker. And then I'd be involved more with the theory side of things as well, which can only help me when we do experiments and the practical stuff together."

She looked nervous, Severus thought, as she stood there, holding the ends of her sleeves. He was reminded again of her age – suddenly twenty-one didn't sound so mature anymore. At least, not compared to forty. Merlin. Looking at her, he considered for a moment. She was right – he did prefer reading and writing his notes alone, because then he was assured the silence he needed to think. And he also found it a lot easier when he was completely in control of what research was being done, because he was the only one doing it. Letting Granger in to the theory side of things would change all that; silence certainly wouldn't be guaranteed one hundred percent of the time.

But then again... Hadn't she proved she could be quiet and focused when she needed to be? Hadn't she proved she was an efficient and hard worker - not only now, but when she was at school? Merlin, everyone knew how much of a bookworm she was. Hadn't she shown him how intelligent she truly was, how capable she was of assisting him? She had earned his respect, in a way, why not his trust?

And there, Severus paused. After the war and everything he had done, 'trust' seemed a twisted word. Dumbledore had trusted him, Voldemort had trusted him, he had trusted neither of them. Okay, perhaps that wasn't fair. He had trusted Dumbledore, but only so far. Not with everything, not completely. It was hard to, when everywhere you turned everyone else's eyes were filled with mistrust and wariness. But there was one person he had trusted once, who he had trusted completely... Lily. A strained look came over Severus' face. Because trusting (loving) Lily had really done him good, hadn't it?

But...

He looked at Hermione again, who was looking back at him now with a small frown on her face, biting down anxiously on her bottom lip.

"Sorry, I, erm, forget I suggested it. It's fine, I just thought maybe I could help..."

"No, Granger..." He held a hand up, face blank as ever, voice eternally silky and measured, never betraying what he was thinking and feeling inside. He looked at her, studied her expectant expression, the slightly nervous, yet assertive way in which she held herself. Again, it kept coming to him... so young... But... Why shouldn't he trust her? What reason did he have to let her assist him with the theory side of his (their) research? She wasn't going to ruin it, or hold him back. She wasn't going to say things unnecessarily or hinder them. Like she had said, she could only help speed up the process.

"Meet me at the bookstore, nine o'clock sharp, tomorrow morning, Granger. And-"

"Don't be late," she said, grinning that infectious grin at him again. "I know." Her voice grew a little more serious, taking on a hint of sincerity. "And thank you." She smiled brightly again, some of the mischief and excitement returning to her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow then, good luck fending off all of your admirers."

"Likewise," Severus murmured silkily, nodding at her in acknowledgement as she made her way out, chuckling to herself. And once she was gone, he was left stood there, pondering over one tiny thing.

Since when had he started thinking of _his_ research as _their _research?

* * *

_**That's all for now, folks! There was the faintest hint of Grapes in there – I promise the start of all that is coming... though I think the fact that it has taken me over thirty chapters to start hinting at any romance kind of gives you a general idea of time scales... :P Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, thank you very much for reading, and please, don't forget to review! **_

_**P.S - There's a poll on my profile page about another HG/SS fic I have planned; I'd be really grateful if you went and had a look and voted! :D But review first, of course. :P **_

_**X =D**_


	34. A Ridiculous Notion

_**Hello! Well I'm here with the next chapter... I hope it's okay. I'm at my grandparents' house at the moment, and am having to write in the living room where they're chatting, and the races are on the TV, and it's hard to concentrate, so I apologise if there's a lack of quality to this chapter. I've tried my best to make sure it's up to scratch! Thank you as ever for your reviews, I don't know what I'd do without you all! Anyway, without further ado... :D**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, don't own the horse that just won a race on the telly either... shame... :P**_

_**Chapter 34 – A Ridiculous Notion**_

* * *

"Ginny?" Hermione put down the wine glass in her hand, her eyes fixed on the youngest Weasley (or Potter now, she supposed), who had just appeared through her fireplace in a flash of green flames and ash. It was nearing ten o'clock and she had just been relaxing with a good book and glass of wine when her fireplace had burst into life.

"Hi, Hermione," Ginny said, smiling. "Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, but our owl's got a broken claw or something at the moment after he crashed into a window the other day; I think he's related to Errol somehow."

Hermione smiled easily and picked her glass back up, jerking her head to signal for Ginny to follow her into the kitchen. "It's fine, Gin, don't worry about it. Do you want a glass of wine?" She opened the fridge as she spoke, refilling her own glass first as she looked towards her friend.

Ginny seemed to look at the wine longingly, but gave a smile and shook her head, holding up a hand. "I better not. I'll have some water though; I hate travelling by floo, but I figured it'd be easiest."

Eyeing Ginny with curiosity, Hermione filled a glass with water and handed it to her. "Not like you to decline a glass of wine. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Ginny drank half her water with deep gulps before responding, her gaze averted as she lowered her glass and bit down on her lip. "I shouldn't really tell you, me and Harry were going to wait until, well, you know, until we know for sure, but –"

"You're pregnant?" Hermione asked, expression brightening.

Ginny's face broke out in a grin. "I think so, but I still haven't seen a medi-witch or anything. Harry's taking me tomorrow."

Some women would have been jealous; they would have envied Ginny's happy marriage and growing family, but not Hermione. Again, she was surprised at how little regret she felt now about her failed relationship with Carl. Being alone didn't bother her half as much as she thought it might. In fact, Hermione might even say she was happier alone. Much happier than she had been with Carl when things turned sour, at any rate. With a wide smile, she pulled Ginny into a hug, almost squishing her.

"That's brilliant, Ginny, congratulations!"

Ginny returned the smile, drinking some more water. "Thanks. I really hope I am; I mean, I don't quite want to go at the rate Mum and Dad did, but I did always want maybe two or three... Of course we have Teddy as well, which is great..." She grinned. "But yeah, that's not really what I came here to talk to you about. I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me tomorrow, for Ron and Gina's wedding."

"Oh right, yeah." Hermione's gaze darted to where the invitation was pinned up on her notice board. It had come through a week before, but she'd only had chance to reply a few days ago. "Well, um, I'm sort of busy tomorrow... But how about after I've finished at work sometime this week?"

"Busy?" Ginny asked, looking surprised, as though Hermione had just told her she was moving to Antarctica. "What are you doing?"

Taking no offence, Hermione rolled her eyes and drank some more of her wine. "I do have a life you know, Gin... Sort of." They both laughed a little at that. "You know how I'm assisting Professor Snape with some research?"

"I remember you mentioning it, yeah... How the hell you put up with him, I've no idea," the younger woman said, nodding. "Let me guess, you're brewing tomorrow?"

"Well, we're researching. We're meeting at Henrietta's to try and gather some notes and do some theory work, and I don't think we'll be done until late... But I'll be free after work on Monday, if you want to go shopping then?"

Ginny put her head on one side slightly, and now it was her turn to study Hermione with curiosity in her eyes. "Okay then, Monday sounds good... So what's this research all about then, or can't you tell me?"

"Well, all the ins and outs are quite complicated," Hermione said, leaning back against the kitchen counter as she looked at Ginny over her wine glass, an absent smile on her face. "But basically, we're trying to develop a combination of metals and properties that could form a cauldron that enhances the potency of any healing remedies brewed in it. But don't go spreading it about, he'll kill me." The smile spread into a grin. "It really is so interesting though, I'm learning loads, and it's brilliant experience. I mean, just the _theory_ work that goes into projects like this is fascinating. I-" Hermione suddenly became aware of the look on Ginny's face – amused, but teasing too, for some reason. She stopped. "What?"

"The look on your face," Ginny explained with a laugh, setting her now empty glass down on the counter-top. "You look like someone who's Christmases have all come at once. And that is not usually a term applied to someone spending a lot of time with Severus Snape. So come on, spill."

"Spill what?" For some reason, Hermione felt herself gulping down more wine, just to avoid Ginny's fiery, inquisitive gaze.

"What's going on between you and old Snapey!" Ginny exclaimed teasingly. If she had been drinking wine, Hermione would have accused her of being drunk.

"What the hell, Ginny? There's nothing going on between me and Snape, I'm just assisting him with some research! What in the name of Merlin gave you _that_ impression?"

Ginny shrugged, and there was still an unnerving glint in her eyes. "There's a massive smile on your face when you talk about 'doing research', and there's this look about you... Like you sort of... Light up."

"I do not light up." Hermione put her now empty glass down firmly on the counter-top next to Ginny's. She looked up at her. "And if I do, it's because I really love doing this research. It really is fascinating, and I'm learning so much. Spending time with Snape is a small price to pay for being able to be part of something like this."

There was a long pause in which Hermione looked at Ginny, determined to persuade her there was _nothing_ going on with her and Snape. Good Merlin, just the notion was ridiculous. Why on earth would she...? Ugh, she didn't even want to go there. Eventually, Ginny just let out a low hum that signalled she was satisfied and believed her. For now. The two said their goodbyes and arranged to meet up once Hermione had finished work the following Monday, and then she was left standing alone by her fireplace, a little baffled by Ginny's jumping to conclusions.

Her and _Snape_? That was just absurd. In fact, it was more than absurd, it was ludicrous. So she was single now, and she wasn't exactly going anywhere where she could meet someone else, but it didn't mean she was going to go and jump into bed with her Potions' Professor, for Merlin's sake! They worked together, she was his assistant. Hell, they weren't even friends. At least, not in the conventional sense anyway. Their relationship didn't resemble anything like what Hermione understood to be friendship. So there most certainly was not anything going on, and she had no clue what had given Ginny the idea.

So why, when the redhead mentioned it, had a weird sort of thrill run down her spine, and a strange churning sensation started in her stomach? She felt queasy all over now, so deciding it was just a product of tiredness, Hermione headed for bed. But she couldn't get the ridiculousness of Ginny's words out of her head. She lit up? What the hell was that supposed to mean? So she got excited about learning new things - that was old news. Everyone knew she was often apt to get more animated about a book than a man any day.

"Ridiculous, Ginny," Hermione muttered to herself as she clambered into bed. "Just ridiculous."

* * *

It had been too long, Henrietta thought as she hovered by the doorway to her small backroom, watching its two occupants with curious eyes. She hadn't seen Severus or Hermione in at least two weeks, though she presumed that was due to them being busy, caught up with media or family and friends. She couldn't expect them to always have time for an old woman like her. But this... this was a turn up for the books, she thought, with an almost sly smile spreading across her face. She had been a Slytherin whilst at Hogwarts, more decades ago than she cared to mention, and she was still a Slytherin at heart.

As she peered into the backroom, Henrietta couldn't see either of their faces. All that was visible was a mass of brown curls, held up in a hastily done bun, and the back of Severus' head, as both bent over books, right hands scribbling down notes every few seconds. They had barely exchanged a word between them since they had arrived, yet there was some strange sense of companionship in the atmosphere of the bookstore, and somehow, the elderly shop owner got the feeling that Severus secretly liked the young Gryffindor being there. And as she watched them, she began to wonder... perhaps... No. No. Not possibly, of course not. It was a ridiculous notion, and was best forgotten before she even thought properly about it. That could never work.

But even so, as Henrietta watched Hermione lift her head and say something quietly to Severus, and saw him reply in kind, a small smirk on his face as he returned to his book, as though the pair had just exchanged a private joke, she couldn't help but wonder...

Severus was lonely, Henrietta knew that. However much he projected an image of himself as a private, closed man, not in need of any affection or regard from anyone, she knew that in the long run, he needed somebody. And not just the friendship of an old woman who had read too many books, too. He needed more than that, whether he cared to acknowledge or act on that or not. And Hermione...

She was still hurting. She might not agree herself; she might insist she was fully over the breakdown of her relationship with the Healer, but... Henrietta knew different, from experience. She may well be glad it was over; she may well not feel regret, but scars like that don't heal overnight. Maybe, Henrietta thought, maybe she needed someone too, to help heal those scars and give her more than just academic things to live for.

But then... No. Perhaps some of what she thought was true, perhaps even all of it was true. But what they needed wasn't each other, not in that way, surely... She had certainly never seen it happen before. And it might be a matter of age-old house prejudices, old fashioned cynicism or just plain disbelief, but no... That could never work, and Henrietta resolved to dismiss the idea as quickly as it had come into her head. It was a ridiculous notion – something she was prone to have occasionally, getting on as she was. Yes, ridiculous, that was all. Ridiculous.

* * *

_**Hm... I think I ended up with more Grapes in there than I intended, but I hope it's still okay! Thank you very much for reading, and please review!**_

_**X =D**_


	35. Routine

_**I know I must sound like a broken record by now, but I really am so grateful to you all for the lovely reviews you leave me. There's no better form of encouragement! So thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter. And here is the next one, with a slight hint of more Grape juice... :P**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Have we gathered, at thirty-five chapters, that I don't own Harry Potter? :P**_

_**Chapter 35 – Routine**_

* * *

Something unsettling had happened in the life of Severus Snape. Something very unsettling indeed. He had always been a stickler for routine; a day without purpose or order was a day wasted, in his opinion, and that was the way it had always been, for as long as he could remember. Even before the war, when proper routine and well-thought out actions had been vital, Severus remembered himself as a man who liked to wake up in the morning and know exactly what he was going to be doing up until he retired to bed again that night. It was simply his nature, and his routine was something personal to him. After the war, it had centred on his research – get up, have breakfast, look over notes, plan experiments, carry out experiments, conduct more research, write more notes, go to bed. Or at least, something along those lines. But now, something had happened to that routine, something he found unsettling, to say the least.

Because now, that routine had somehow come to involve Hermione Granger.

What had once been something personal to him, something he did alone, and enjoyed doing alone, had very quickly become something where almost every aspect was shared with someone else. And as he mused about this over a glass or two of firewhiskey, Severus couldn't really identify the exact point at which this had happened. A lot of that seemed to be happening where Granger was concerned – lines blurring, things just... happening, without him planning them, or intending them to happen. It wasn't, in short, what he was used to. Or, at least, it wasn't what he was usually used to. Because this new _change_ to his routine was unsettling, yes, but at the same time, it wasn't strange, particularly. But now that Severus really sat down and thought about it, he realised just how much Granger had managed to integrate herself into his day and his daily routine. Or perhaps... had _he_ integrated _her_?

Now, his routine was something more along the lines of: get up, have breakfast, look over notes made by himself and Granger, plan experiments, appointing tasks to Granger, carry out experiments with Granger in the evening, conduct more research, sometimes with Granger, write more notes for Granger to read the next time they planned to meet, go to bed.

And that was what was most unsettling about it all. Because when he looked at how he spent his days, Severus was unnerved to realise just how much of it involved the person he had previously thought of as an insufferable know-it-all. Well, she couldn't be so insufferable if he found himself involving her with so much, could she? He supposed not. That, at least, he had to hand to her. But it seemed that nowadays, the only parts of his routine that _didn't_ involve Hermione Granger were the parts when he got up, ate, and went to bed. Thank God.

* * *

Hermione, meanwhile, hadn't really given it much thought. She liked routine as much as the next person, but she didn't exactly have a rigid one, and rarely planned her days down to the minute. She got up, she went to work, and in her spare time she'd relax, spend time with her friends, or find herself assisting her former Potions Professor with research and experiments. Life was... normal, good, comfortable. There were no confusing arguments anymore, no complications, and she enjoyed her work and being part of important research. That was all there was to it, really. She hadn't really paid much thought to how much of her time was now occupied by Snape and his research. At least, not until Ginny pointed it out to her, that Monday they were shopping for the next big Weasley wedding.

* * *

"What's this?" Ginny asked, looking up at Hermione from the slightly messy pile of parchment she had been peering at.

Flicking her hair out from under the collar of her coat, Hermione glanced towards the notes and checked she had plenty of money with her. No doubt Ginny would somehow talk her into buying the most expensive dress available. "They're notes for the research Snape and I are doing; he sent them over this morning, I still need to have a proper look at them."

Making sure not to mention the bright smile and 'look' in her friend's eyes when she talked about Snape and the research again, Ginny nodded and stood up, picking her own bag up. "I see. You ready then?"

"Yep. Where are we going? You know where all the right shops are."

Ginny grinned and linked their arms together, preparing to apparate them both to a shop she knew well. "You'll see."

* * *

An hour later found Hermione sipping champagne in the private dressing room of an upmarket Muggle department store. She had been surprised at Ginny's decision to 'go Muggle', as the redhead called it, and even more surprised at her choice of store. The fact that none of the price tags had actual _prices_ on them just about summed it up. Hermione had never understood Ginny's infatuation with labels, and designer style. A special occasion warranted a dress – she had never really cared where that dress came from, or how much she paid for it. As long as she was able to turn up looking half decent on the day.

"You know, I really don't understand why all this is necessary, Gin," she called out, speaking through a thick black curtain to where the youngest Weasley was trying on a series of dresses. "You could have said you'd planned something like this, I would have stopped you."

Ginny's head appeared around the edge of the black satin. "Hermione, it's not every day a brother of mine gets married; I didn't get to do this for Bill's wedding, because Fleur insisted on those horrible gold things. Charlie is probably never going to get married, I can't see George going there anytime soon, and Percy, well...If anyone ever marries him, it'll be a dark day for them. And in light of recent events, I've worked out I'm going to be nearing the size of a planet again by the time the big day comes around. The least I can do is wear a nice dress with an unspeakable price tag."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled and decided to humour her friend anyway. She put down the now empty champagne flute and stood back. "Fine, come on then. Let's see what that one looks like."

Grinning, Ginny disappeared back behind the curtain again for a second before pulling it aside. She stood, smoothing down the blue, floaty material. "What do you think? Keep in mind it'll be enchanted on the day to fit over the bump."

"It's gorgeous, Ginny," Hermione said, not really knowing what else to say. She wasn't one to gush, really. And she meant what she said. "It looks really good on you."

"Better than the last one?"

She nodded. "Definitely."

"Great!" The redhead beamed excitedly. "I think I'll take this one then. Come on, now, Hermione, it's your turn!"

Hermione groaned, looking a little uneasily between Ginny and the rail of dresses nearby. They were all beautiful, and she knew she'd just end up picking the first one she tried on for the sake of getting it over with. "You know I really do have to get back soon to read over those notes before tomorrow morning. I'm meeting Snape after work tomorrow to do some more research, and if we find anything, then we'll be able to-" She stopped, noticing the knowing look come into Ginny's eyes again. She sighed. "What?"

"You're doing it again." A teasing grin spread across Ginny's face.

"Doing what again?"

"Lighting up."

Hermione shot her a scathing look and grabbed the first three dresses her hand came into contact with. "You're ridiculous, Ginny, you know that?"

Whilst the two women swapped places and Hermione tried the first dress on, Ginny leant back against the opposite wall, talking through the curtain with a slight smirk on her face. "It's not just that though, Hermione, I don't think you realise just how much you mention Snape and this so called research."

The curtain was yanked back as Hermione stuck her head round. "It _is_ research, Ginny! That's it. We make notes, and then we brew experiments. There's no secret, hot, passionate fling going on!" She viciously pulled the curtain back into place, only to push it back a few seconds later. "How's this?"

Still suppressing laughter at her vehement protests, Ginny put her head on one side and studied the deep purple dress Hermione had tried on. "Eh... it's alright."

Hermione frowned. "I thought it looked nice."

"It does, but it's not... Wow."

Letting out a sigh, Hermione realised that there was no chance she could just 'buy the first thing she tried on' when it came to shopping with Ginny. Especially if they were shopping for a special occasion. "In case you haven't noticed, Gin, I'm not you. I don't look particularly 'wow' in anything."

Ginny just rolled her eyes and stepped forwards, taking charge. She grabbed the other two dresses Hermione had picked up and shoved them back onto the rail. "Those colours won't suit you," she explained, her back still turned as she picked out four more and handed them over. "Try these ones."

Hermione took them with a reluctant sigh and pulled the curtain back into place. She really did need to read those notes before she went to bed that night, but at this rate, she'd be exhausted before six o'clock rolled around.

"Anyway, my point is, can you just stop suggesting that there's anything going on with me and Snape? It's ridiculous!"

Still smirking, Ginny crossed her arms, eyes fixed on the curtain as she waited for Hermione to reappear. "Fine, fine. You know I don't mean anything by it, don't you? It's just hard for me to understand why anyone would want to spend so much time with him."

"Because I learn stuff, Gin! I don't expect you to understand or anything, but I find it really fascinating, what we're doing. And I don't spend that much time with him. You're exaggerating." She stepped out of the changing room, and Ginny immediately shook her head.

"No, the neckline doesn't look right."

With a huff, she disappeared back behind the curtain.

"Alright, okay, I get it," Ginny continued the main topic of their conversation. "But you do spend more time doing that research than you realise."

"He's really not that bad, Ginny, once you get to know him a little bit more. I'm not saying he isn't still sarcastic and snarky as hell, but he isn't horrible. He has actually complimented me once or twice, in his own way."

The look of surprised disbelief on Ginny's face when Hermione pulled back the curtain again for what felt like the hundredth time made it clear she didn't believe her. "Compliments? Snape? Please."

"I'm telling the truth; he's really not that bad at all. But anyway, it doesn't matter. Can we stop talking about Snape now and the relationship that doesn't exist?" Hermione looked down at the dress she was wearing. "How about this one?"

Sighing, Ginny put her head slightly on one side again and studied her friend. The deep green material flowed over all the right places to fall just below the knee, the plunging neckline suggestive, but leaving enough to the imagination. She grinned. "Perfect. That colour really suits you; I've never seen you wear much green before."

Hermione didn't really pick on the subtle, suggestive hint in Ginny's voice as she said that. She was just relieved she could finally buy the dress and get home. Long shopping trips had never been her strong point. "Finally! I like this one too. So can I get it then?"

"You most definitely can."

* * *

Hermione dropped unceremoniously onto her sofa with a heavy sigh, exhausted. She had forgotten that shopping trips with Ginny always took longer than expected, and always left her feeling shattered. Almost reluctantly, she pulled the waiting notes towards her and finally began to read, trying to get into 'thinking' mode. But her brain didn't seem to want to concentrate on diagrams and brewing methods and the magical properties of metals. Instead it seemed to be wandering to her conversation with Ginny in the dressing room, her teeth absentmindedly toying with her lower lip. She knew Ginny was just being Ginny – the same gossipy, excitable person she had always been, but her and Snape, _really_? Hermione shook her head, trying to concentrate on the notes again. She only managed to read a few lines before her thoughts drifted again.

Was she really spending that much time with her Potions professor, that even Ginny had noticed her absence? It was true she spent most evenings brewing or researching with him now, but she still had her free time. It wasn't like she spent every waking minute with him, was it? She shook her head again and returned to the notes, pushing all her musings out of her head. So what if her routine had come to involve him and their research more? No-one could really expect anything different, important things like what they were working on took time; that was all. It wasn't as if she was purposely spending time with him because she really _enjoyed_ his company or anything.

But, having said that, Hermione _did_ value his company. She enjoyed learning things from him, she liked to watch him work and gain knowledge from the way he brewed, the techniques he used. She valued his insight, his intellect, the sheer intelligence he seemed to possess. She liked how she could gain experience from copying his methodical processes, the organised, precise way in which he did everything. And then, there was something about the silky, sarcastic way he said things that brought a faint, amused smile to her face. She remembered the perplexed look on his face when she had laughed at the pile of Valentine's Day gifts by his door, the terse, almost tone to his low voice as he recited what one had said, sarcastic as ever.

Severus Snape was an enigma, a puzzle, and if there was one thing that Hermione Granger loved to do, it was solving puzzles, working them out.

* * *

_**There can be a danger to write shopping trips with Hermione and Ginny as very girly, so I tried my best to keep our resident know-it-all as in character as possible, I hope it was okay! Thank you as always for reading, and please review, I value your thoughts!**_

_**X =D**_


	36. A Frustrating Distraction

_**Gah, sorry about the delay for this chapter! Please feel free to complain to my teachers, the education system, the English government... Any will do. :P But thank you as always for all your wonderful reviews, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter! **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter...but I may have a plan... :P**_

_**Chapter 36 – A Frustrating Distraction**_

* * *

The houses were white and terraced and looming, uniformly lining the pavement. It was the middle of the night, and so all the residents of the street were asleep; but had someone been awake and looked out of their window, they would have seen something very peculiar indeed. At the end of the road there was the entrance to a tube station. At this time of night it was deserted, and the street corner was devoid of any life. But then, out of nowhere, a woman appeared. Not at the top of the steps that led underground, not from around the corner, not from behind a tree or building. She just... came out of thin air. One minute there was nothing there, and the next minute, a woman stood, pushing her hair back from her face as she recovered her breath. Anyone peering out of their window at that time would have thought it was a trick of the light, but no-one saw.

The woman strode down the darkened street with purpose, her head bowed against the vile wind as it whipped her hair around her face. Her arms held a red coat close around her torso and the sound of her boots clicking on the pavement echoed in the night. She was a woman on a mission. When she reached the house she was heading for, she didn't pause or look up or spare a glance for her surroundings, but merely turned abruptly and hurried up the steps.

* * *

Severus' glare was fixed on the front door as he pulled a black cloak around him and moved with a graceful anger down the sweeping staircase of his house. His feet were bare inside the boots he had pulled on and the leather was rubbing his heels, but the pounding continued. A million acerbic, biting comments were ready on the tip of his tongue as he neared the door and prepared to open it. Whoever thought that coming to hammer on his front door at this time was a good idea was severely mistaken. And they were about to find out just how mistaken.

The door opened silently, and when Severus saw who was stood on the other side, her hand raised, ready to pound the door again, the evident rage on his face increased. He pierced her with the blackest of glares and stood, one hand holding the door, the other holding the doorframe, a mass of black blocking her way in. He opened his mouth, tongue more than ready to lash into her with the best of his snide remarks, but she got there first.

"Platinum," she said, her voice breathless and rushed so that he barely caught her words. "It's platinum."

The ice in his eyes changed to affront for a second, before freezing back into ice again. "I apologise, Granger, if your babbling doesn't make sense to me at this present minute. For I have just been awoken from sleep by your incessant hammering on my door, and am now having meaningless words thrown at my face."

She seemed out of breath and distracted, and the acerbic tone to his usual snide drawl didn't cut into her at all. "Can I come in?" she asked, eyes flickering to look past him into the hallway. "It's freezing out here."

But Severus was distracted now too, and stood back to admit her in without a single remark. He shut the door and turned to face her. He was primarily distracted by the way the word 'platinum' was slowly sinking its way into his mind and making sense of itself, tangling with the theories and facts and ideas already there. But on the side of that, there was another distraction, and it was a distraction Severus would rather not think about at all, for fear it would in itself distract from the primary distraction, which was the realisation that perhaps the insufferable woman stood before him had come all this way in the middle of the night to tell him 'platinum' for a very good reason.

Hermione stared back at him, still getting her breath back whilst she tried to work out the look on his face. He was looking at her distantly, as though the thoughts in his head were screaming a little too loud for him to focus on anything else at the moment. He seemed to be working her out, or working something out, anyway. She didn't know what was taking him so long, but decided to be patient and stand there until he said something.

Eventually, he did speak, and his eyes were levelled on her now with a graveness that surpassed his usual serious expression. "Platinum," he said, slowly, as though testing the word on his tongue. The look on his face was that of a man calculating as he spoke, and Hermione knew that the cogs of his mind were whirring, leading him to same conclusion she had come to just ten minutes before. _Platinum. _But what confused her wasn't the serious look on his face as he realised why she had appeared in the middle of the night to tell him that, what confused her was the fact that anger still burned in the depths of his eyes as he looked at her. He was still furious about something. Surely what she had come to tell him cancelled out any possible anger he could feel about her coming at this _time_?

"Platinum," Hermione repeated, nodding. "And I'm sorry to turn up here out of the blue, in the middle of the night like this, but I couldn't leave it till morning. I had to tell you. You can't be angry at me for dragging you out of bed, surely."

No, Severus thought, which only enraged him further. He could hardly be angry at her for that, not when she had come to him with the answer. The _answer_! A voice in the back of his head that sounded annoyingly like Dumbledore told him to stop being so distracted and worried over one little thing, and to focus on the main topic here – _platinum. _But the anger at himself still remained. He couldn't help it. This was a major breakthrough with their research, the possible solution they had been looking for, perhaps the answer to all of their problems. And _she_ had thought of it first.

But that wasn't even why Severus was so angry at himself. Because it was rage at himself, not at her, that emanated from his eyes. And that was because this was important, crucial, monumental, even, but he couldn't focus on it. Because of that infuriating second distraction - the one he knew shouldn't affect him at all and stop him from concentrating on what was really happening here. But it was stopping him, and it was affecting him. And that only made Severus angrier at himself.

Because that second distraction really was very simple – easily forgotten, easily ignored, easily pushed from a mind. So why was it so hard to push it from _his_ mind? Hadn't he spent years pushing things from his mind and hiding them in some box somewhere?

Why was it so hard, Severus wanted to know, to push from his mind the fact that Hermione Granger, stood breathless with smudged eye makeup, pink cheeks from the cold and hair wilder than he had ever seen it was a very, very interesting sight indeed?

The sight of her awakened something deep within him, something he wasn't sure even existed within him anymore. Something unidentifiable, nameless, impossible to control. And when that word fell from in between her parted lips, that strange, frustrating feeling had only intensified.

"Can you just tell me what it is I've done that is so wrong, Professor?" Hermione asked, and she sounded slightly terse. Severus didn't blame her; he realised he'd been glaring at her for the past couple of minutes, saying nothing.

"Nothing," he said, his tone biting. "You've done nothing wrong, Granger, as usual."

She frowned, moving towards him as he turned away from her. "So why do you look so bloody murderous then? I come to you with the answer to our prayers, and you act like I've just cursed you for eternity or something!"

He whipped around to face her again then, and quickly caught himself when he saw her closer than before. He couldn't step back. Severus Snape didn't step back. He looked down at her for a moment, face blank and cold and made of stone, giving nothing away. "I'm not angry at you, Granger. I'm angry at myself," he eventually said, and the contempt that usually laced his tone when addressing her was directed at himself.

Realisation dawned on Hermione's face. "You're angry because you didn't think of it first?" she asked, almost in disbelief.

But that wasn't the reason at all. It was annoying, yes, but it wasn't the main reason. Severus swallowed, and looked away. "Yes."

The voice in his head whispered again. _Liar_.

* * *

Hermione was, in short, perplexed. She was completely mystified by the whole thing. Staring up at the ceiling, she laced her fingers together over her stomach and frowned. Snape had sent her home. Abruptly and, surprisingly, rather rudely. He had all but kicked her out. Said thank you very much for the enlightening news and that he'd contact her tomorrow. Hermione hadn't really known what to expect when she turned up on his doorstep with the answer to their problems desperate to drop from the end of her tongue, but she most certainly hadn't anticipated this.

It had seemed to take him an age to figure out what she meant, and then he had just stood there, glaring at her for what felt like hours. And then he turned her out, with no further explanation. Apart from the fact he wished he'd have thought of it first. But could that really be what he was so angry about? Hermione frowned again. She knew her tendency to be a bit of a know-it-all could rub people up the wrong way sometimes, but she had hardly been showing off, or dancing around in front of his face, taunting him and asking why he hadn't thought of it before her. And to be honest, she had never thought of Snape as a petty man. Proud, yes. But not petty. And this, this was petty.

Unless of course, that wasn't the reason for his anger at all.

Her frown deepened and she sat up, slouching against the pillows as she thought. She racked her brains, trying to work out what else there was that he could possibly be so furious about. But she came up with a blank. There wasn't anything. Not anything she could think of anyway.

There was one thing Hermione did know, however, and that was that she wasn't standing for this. She wasn't just going to put up with being practically thrown out of his house after she had worked out what element they needed and then bothered to apparate across London to tell him. If he had some small matter of petty pride, that was his problem, and she was going to have it out with him.

* * *

_**That's all for now! :P The next chapter will be quite pivotal though. :D Thank you for reading, and please review to let me know what you think! I'm a bit shaky on this chapter; I hope it was alright. **_

_**X =D**_


	37. On a Mission

_**Good Merlin, over 500 reviews! Wow. :D Thank you all so much; I am ridiculously grateful. Now I know some of you have high hopes for the Grape-ness of this chapter... I'm not sure it's going to go exactly as you'd like, but I do hope nothing is too disappointing! Anyway, I'll shut up and stop babbling as I usually do, and let you get on with the chapter. Happy reading! :P**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Must I say this again? I don't own Harry Potter! :D**_

_**Chapter 37 – On a Mission**_

* * *

Hermione began to feel a strange sensation of déjà-vu as she stormed down Severus' street first thing the next morning. The wind whipped her hair about her face just as it had done the night before, and her actions mirrored those of the previous night as well. She kept her head bowed, arms crossed, stride purposeful as she headed towards her former Potions master's home. Once again, she found herself a woman on a mission; only this time, there was a subtle difference. This time, she was an _angry_ woman on a mission. Severus Snape was furious about something, and Merlin help him she was going to find out what. And he was going to be told, in no uncertain terms, that throwing a person out without an explanation as to why, after they've just helped you, was not acceptable behaviour either. Oh yes, Hermione Granger was most certainly an angry woman on a mission.

She swallowed, staring the door down defiantly as she raised her hand to knock. But before Hermione's knuckles could even connect with the black, imposing wood, the door was flung wide open to reveal Severus Snape, holding a...suitcase? The look of shock on his face might as well have been a reflection of Hermione's own expression.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" He made to push past her, impatiently indicating for her to move out of his way.

She frowned at him and refused to move. "I came to talk to you," she told him, sounding almost as abrupt as him. "What are you doing with a suitcase?"

The thunderous expression on Severus' face caused her frown to deepen. This was no matter of petty pride; the fact that she'd thought of platinum first had nothing to do with it, she was sure now. So what was it that had worked him into such a rage?

"Well you can't talk to me, Granger. I'm busy. And as for the suitcase, it's none of your business."

Looking between him and the suitcase, affronted, Hermione frowned again. His whole frame was rigid, as though he thought she might give him some deadly disease. "Are you going away somewhere?" she asked. There was a beat, and then she spoke again before he could reply. "Well if you are, it must be to another country – most probably another continent – because that's a Muggle suitcase, meaning you must be catching a plane, because inter-continental apparition isn't recommended because of how wrong it always goes, what with the splinching that always happens, and Muggles don't really like the look of our trunks-"

"Has anyone ever told you that you think, and certainly talk, too bloody much, Granger?" Severus snapped, glaring at her. His eyes were pitch black – blacker than she had ever seen them, and the intensity in his glare was almost overpowering.

Hermione glared back at him. "Look, Snape, I actually don't _care_ where you're going, to be honest with you. It could be the black hole of Calcutta for all the fudge I give about it. In fact, you should go there. You'd fit right in."

"Well then," Severus hissed, his voice like venom, "I'd appreciate it if you would allow me to pass and get on with it, Granger. I don't have time for another pointless doorstep conversation with you. _In fact_, I don't have time for another pointless conversation with you, wherever it is. Go home."

At that, Hermione snapped. Her blood boiled and she unconsciously drew herself up to her full height, her lips forming a tight line, glare intensifying. "_How dare you, Snape?_" she seethed, and even felt her hands fisting at her sides, her whole body tensing with hot-blooded rage. "How fucking dare you?"

He merely quirked an eyebrow upwards, his expression made of stone. He tried to ignore how bloody striking she looked when she was furious. "Language, Granger," he sneered.

"No, don't you even _dare_ reprimand me," Hermione snapped, taking a vicious step towards him without even thinking. They were stood toe-to-toe now, ego to ego, staring each other down. "I am _not_ your student anymore, Snape, and you can't just treat me like dirt. I've been _helping _you, staying up till all hours to assist you with your – no, actually, _our_ research – and then when I actually come up with a breakthrough, you throw me out of your house without any sort of explanation! And now, when I come round to ask for one, you treat me like this. Well I'm sick of it." She took a deep breath, well aware that her face must be red by now, her chest heaving, but she didn't care. Rage and anger pulsed through her veins, and she felt her fingers itching towards her wand. Not that she would ever dare to hex him.

"I respect you, Merlin help me, I don't know why, but I do. Immensely. It would be nice if you could occasionally treat me with a little respect in return. I haven't done anything to you, Snape. I've done nothing but be helpful, efficient and actually _nice_ to you. Because, believe it or not, and in fact right now _I_ can't believe I could have been so stupid, but I actually _liked_ you, in spite of everything."

Here, Severus' inner voice begged to differ with the 'I haven't done anything to you' part; because at that moment in time, she was doing _a lot_ to him.

Hermione took another breath in, ready to carry on with her tirade. Her glare was fixed on him, and she noticed the quick, subtle movement just in time. "Oh no you don't," she hissed.

She grabbed hold of his arm at the last moment, and they both disappeared into thin air with a quiet crack.

* * *

Severus' voice was like thunder as countryside materialised around them and he whipped his arm out of her grip, shoving her away from him. "Do that again, Granger, and you won't live to tell the tale." He rounded on her, glare more livid than anyone had ever seen it. Smart and attractive or not, she was absolutely insufferable.

"I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me what the hell is going on, Snape. You can't just apparate away from somebody in the middle of an argument!" Hermione's teeth were gritted as she did her best to stand tall and glare back at him, hands on her hips. Severus had to hand it to her; most would have cracked and given up by now.

Severus took a step towards her, his lean, black frame towering over her as he reached out and curled his fingers around her upper arms, gripping her tight. The tiniest amount of fear crept into her eyes as he glared down at her, but she continued to glare stubbornly up at him. The words slipped bitingly from between his lips, his tone cutting and dark. His face hovered just a few inches from her own. "I'm telling you one last time, Granger. _Go home_. I don't need your 'assistance' any longer."

Every instinct was telling her to pull away from him, to aggressively shrug out of his vice-like grip and walk away. She was conflicted. One half of her was screaming danger, telling her to get away from him whilst she could and leave him to it. Why should she help him when he treated her like this anyway?

But the other half of her told her to stand her ground, to have this out with him and voice what she was thinking. It was this other half that sent the thrill racing down her spine when he had grabbed hold of her, it was this other half that set a strange tingling off in the pit of her stomach when she realised how close he was, looming over her. She could smell the scent of mint and herbs on his breath, could almost taste it on her tongue.

"Oh I understand," Hermione eventually said, her voice quiet and even, undertones of anger still there. "I'm allowed to assist you, for as long as I'm actually useful. I've come up with the goods now, I've told you what element you need, and now you think you can just push me aside and act as though I never played a part in anything. Well I'm not going to let you do that. I've contributed to this research almost as much as you, so wherever it is you're going, if it's got anything to do with what we've been working on, I'm coming with you." She shook her head at him in disbelief. "You're a bastard, Snape."

They stood like that for what felt like centuries; his grip on her upper arms almost crushing her bones, their glares connected, pulse points throbbing. Until, eventually, Severus shoved her away from him, releasing his hold on her as he stepped backwards. "Then go," he spat. "Run away, and don't bother me again. Do you understand, Granger?"

Again, her instincts were screaming at her to do as he said, to run away and just leave him, and all of it, alone. But she couldn't do that. So instead Hermione stepped forwards, towards him again, head held high. When she spoke, there wasn't a single wobble in her voice. Her words were clear and determined, her gaze not wavering from his face. And for the first time, she used his name.

"No, Severus, I _don't_ understand. And I'm not leaving you alone until I do."

He stared back at her, not sure which part of her he was unable to believe the most – her courage, her stubbornness, her stupidity, her intelligence, or the fact that she caused feelings and emotions that he never knew he could feel to conflict inside him, driving him insane. She wasn't going to back down until he explained, or at least gave her _something_. She wasn't going to let him push her away.

After a long, tense silence, Severus finally let out a sharp, reluctant and irritated sigh. "Johannesburg," he said, still glaring at her, angry that she hadn't allowed his plan to work. Bloody insufferable girl. Woman. "I'm going to Johannesburg. I have a contact, of sorts, there, who can source the kind of Platinum I... _we,_ need."

It wasn't the answer she wanted. It didn't explain why he was so angry, either at himself or at her, and it didn't explain why he had thrown her out so rudely last night. But it was enough. For now. Hermione lessened her glare a little and nodded, feeling that they were coming to some sort of truce.

"Right, well, we better get me a seat on the plane then, hadn't we?"

* * *

_**Why Johannesburg? you're probably asking. Well, I did a little more research, and found out that a lot of the world's Platinum is sourced from Gauteng, the province of South Africa that Johannesburg is capital of. So there we go. :D I hope this chapter didn't disappoint too much people – I promise the Grape-juice is intensifying in flavour! :P Thank you all very much as always for taking the time to read, and please review to let me know what you think!**_

_**X :D**_

_**P.S – On the off-chance that any of you are also Doctor Who fans, I've started a blog based around the life of a Dalek named Terry... if you're intrigued, the link is on my profile. :P **_


	38. Torture and Torment

_**Hello again! :D As usual, I will try my best to not ramble here, but I do have a couple of things to say quickly before you read the new chapter. First of all, is that I am planning on taking part in NaNoWriMo this year. This means my November is going to be cram-packed full of novel writing, mock exams, revision and a French speaking exam, so I'm going to put all my fan-fiction stories on a temporary hiatus throughout November, because I won't be able to juggle them with everything else. Don't worry though; I'll be back in full force with an update by December, and good luck to anyone else doing NaNoWriMo this year too! :D **_

_**The second thing is just a quick comment – these next few chapters set in Johannesburg might seem a bit unrealistic to anyone who's ever been, or indeed lives, in Johannesburg, because I've never been there myself. So apologies in advance for any lack of, or mistake in, detail! Anyway, I will shut up now (I've failed on the rambling front), quickly thank you all for your reviews, and let you get on with reading the new chapter!**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Quel dommage! :P**_

_**Chapter 38 – Torture and Torment**_

* * *

Hermione pushed open the door to her apartment and hurried in, Severus following at a slow pace. He shut the door deliberately behind him as he watched her disappear into what he assumed was her bedroom. For a moment he just stood in the living area, looking around, not quite sure where to put himself. The blood was still boiling in his veins as anger pulsed inside him. Weak. He was weak; he must be. Never, in all his life, had Severus been unable to push someone away before. A few vile words, a snide comment here and there, a well-timed and measured glare, and that was it. Whoever it was he wanted out of his life was gone for good.

And then came Hermione Granger. She was a whirlwind of confidence and stubbornness and courage, and not for the name of Merlin could he make her leave him alone. He didn't like it. Didn't like what she made him feel, hated the things she made him think. He had always been a man perfectly in control of everything he did and said, so what was so special about her? What was it about her that made him feel like every thought, every emotion, was out of his jurisdiction?

His thoughts were interrupted when the woman in question rushed back through to the lounge, grabbing parchment and a pen as she went. She was out of breath, hair wild, a pair of jeans she had obviously been in the process of packing still held in one hand.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..."

Severus merely raised one eyebrow, not moving a muscle as he watched her hurriedly scrawl some kind of letter onto the nearest piece of parchment to hand. "Any reason for the profanity, Granger?"

Her head whipped up to glare at him, before she went back to hastily writing. "I haven't taken a holiday in two whole years, so Hestia's not going to mind me having the time off. She is going to mind me swanning off to South Africa and not telling her though," she said breathlessly, finally finishing her note. Barely seeming to acknowledge the stony look on his face and deciding to ignore his mood, she shoved the letter towards him and grabbed the jeans again.

"Attach that to my owl and tell it to go to Hestia, will you? She'll understand." With that, she rushed off back into the bedroom, and Severus heard a clamour of drawers opening and closing, of wardrobe doors banging and of things being dropped on the floor in her haste.

Perplexed, and in half a mind to chastise her for being so rude, Severus glanced down at the letter in his hands, and then looked around the room for an owl.

* * *

"That's the last time you tell me what to do, Granger, do I make myself clear?"

Hermione jumped, springing up from where she had been crouched down at her suitcase to look towards the door. He was stood there, fixing her with a determined glare.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry and all that," she said, jumping over a small mountain of hangers on the floor to disappear into the bathroom. "I asked you to give my owl a letter; it's not the end of the world, Snape! I'm busy. I do assume you don't want us to miss the flight?"

Severus resisted the urge to mutter 'I don't want you on the flight at all' under his breath, and schooled his features as she re-entered the room. He was determined to push his awareness of the alarming fact that he was now stood in her _bedroom_ to the back of his mind.

"You'll need a dress," he suddenly said, abruptly.

Coming to a stop, Hermione turned to frown at him. "A dress?"

"Yes, or something... formal, to wear." Severus stiffened, not entirely comfortable. She was still frowning at him though, and his voice was slightly strained as he expanded. "My, ah, contact. He likes to do business at venues that aren't the cheapest. He is also quite a hard man to persuade and please..."

"And?" Hermione asked, inwardly thinking: _he's not the only one._

"And, Granger, something easy on the eye might not be all too disadvantageous."

She could tell it had been hard for him to say that, and she could almost sense the slight look of embarrassment in his eyes. That was, if he was the sort of man to feel embarrassment, which she knew he really wasn't. He was a proud Slytherin, through and through. Raising her eyebrows, slightly taken aback, she placed her hands on her hips, almost Molly Weasley style.

"_Easy on the eye_?"

Severus stared back at her, slowly feeling his rage increasing, for reasons he didn't even want to explore in depth. She was bloody enjoying this, inside. The insufferable... He decided not to merit that sentence with an ending. What the hell was happening to him? As if it wasn't bad enough that she had some unfathomable power to make him feel and think things he didn't like, she had to be the most insufferable, annoying, difficult women he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"Don't test me, Granger," he ground out, fighting against his muscles to stop his hands curling into tight fists. "Just do as I said, and pack something formal."

She carried on glaring at him for a few moments more, before finally relenting with a huffy, reluctant sigh, and flinging her wardrobe doors open again. Satisfied, Severus turned on his heel and exited, not wanting to stand there on the threshold of her bedroom another minute. The thoughts bubbling at the back of his mind were dangerous, and needed repressing.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Hermione appeared in her living area, dragging a bulging suitcase behind her.

"Are you quite ready, Granger?" Severus asked, his voice like acid and poison.

Choosing to rise above his venomous stature towards her, Hermione nodded and took out her wand, setting up the wards he had taught her around the apartment. "Okay," she said, moving towards him. "Let's go."

With a feeling that was a horrifying mix of dread and secret pleasure in the fact that she was coming, Severus extended his arm to her, and they apparated to the airport.

* * *

With a long sigh, Hermione dropped down onto the single bed of her hotel room and looked around, chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip. It had been growing dark when they eventually landed, and to say she had been relieved to get off the plane would be an understatement. Hermione didn't really know what she had expected from sitting next to Severus Snape throughout an entire eleven hour flight, especially considering the mood he had decided to be in of late, but it certainly hadn't been silence. Total, absolute, uninterrupted silence. He hadn't said a word to her, not one. And once they had landed, he only spoke to tell her not to wander off (she had bit back the 'I'm not a child' comment), and follow him without asking millions of questions.

The hotel was on the good side of average – clean and comfortable with no fuss or trimmings. She didn't expect him to choose anywhere else. She had wanted to ask when he had been to Johannesburg before, but the sort of silence that had existed between them the entire day wasn't just total and absolute. It was austere. Hermione remembered the almost gentle, companionable silence they had shared just weeks before, working together, researching elements, carrying out experiments and making notes as they went. There had always been a sense of agreement to that sort of silence, and it was that sort of quiet atmosphere that she knew was a part of spending time with him. Snape was private, quiet and methodical – that side of his personality made it not a stone's throw away from her own.

But this silence was... It was suffocating, ascetic and imposing. It emanated from him in such a way that made her submit to it, that warned her not to even bother uttering a syllable. He had brought her along, yes. But only because he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't. Hermione was sure that the longest sentence he'd said to her since they'd got on the plane was in the lobby of the hotel when they checked in. He had handed her a room key, told her that if she was hungry she could order room service, said that his room was next door to hers, and not to bother him. He would come and get her in the morning and they would meet his contact at an arranged location. If Hermione hadn't been so thoroughly fuming about his sudden intense change of attitude towards her, she would have thought the whole thing almost amusingly cloak and dagger. As it was, she was starting to wish she hadn't insisted on coming after all, if this was how he was going to be. Suddenly, it just seemed as though there was no getting through to him about anything whatsoever. Just when Hermione had thought they were starting to get along reasonably well, just as she had almost started to consider him as a friend, even, he had turned on her. And she just couldn't fathom why.

With another sigh, she got up and crossed over the room to where her suitcase was sat, still unpacked. She couldn't really be bothered tonight, but took out the dress to hang up so it wouldn't crease. Pausing for a moment, she held it out in front of her, eyes lingering at the 'V' where the deep emerald material plunged at the front. Her teeth worried her bottom lip for a moment, before she pushed the thoughts aside and hung it up in the wardrobe. Out of sight, out of mind.

* * *

Severus, meanwhile, was sat at the desk in his room, poring over the notes he had drawn up on platinum. He glared down at the ink markings on the parchment before him, trying to take his rage out on anything he could. Eleven hours, sat beside her on a plane, had been hell. And he hated that. Hated that she could affect him in this way, hated that what he had always been so good at – controlling his thoughts and emotions – no longer seemed a skill of his anymore. Certainly not regarding her, anyway. And that flight... He let out a low groan, fist tightening around the quill he held in his hand. That flight had been torture. That was it. She was his own personal form of torture – torment in a tight-fitting T-shirt.

* * *

_**Well, that's all for now. *Crosses fingers* I hope that was okay, and that I'm still keeping Severus in character. Thank you all for reading, and please leave your comments in a review! You know how much they make my day. :D I don't think I'll have chance to update again before everything kicks off in November, but I do promise to get posting again as soon as possible once December comes around. Hope the delay won't be too torturous. :D**_

_**X :D**_

_**P.S - To the lovely person who anonymously reviewed last chapter, saying they lived in Johannesburg - thank you for your review! And if you do have an account, I'd be more than grateful if you could PM me to tell me a little bit about what Johannesburg is like? There's only so much knowledge that can be gained from google images and wikipedia! :P If you don't have an account, don't worry about it, just thought I'd ask! And if anyone else reading has been there/lives there, I'd really appreciate anything you can tell me!**_


	39. Hands, Like Secrets

_**Okay, be warned, I may ramble in this author's note. But I've been missing for a month, I'm allowed, right? :D... As someone pointed out to me, it's the first of December! :D Well I'm back, all shiny and educated in the art of novel writing from NaNoWriMo. :P Well, I didn't exactly write an entire novel... I did manage the required 50,000 words though; just found that at that point, my novel was only halfway through, and very, very shit. :P NaNoWriMo was incredibly good fun though, and I learnt so much from it. If you've never given it a go, you should do next year! However, I did really, really miss writing fanfiction, in particular this story, and all of you! And I'm not just saying that, I really did! Ask my friends, I was whining to them about having withdrawal symptoms. :P Anyway, hopefully, you missed me too! Or not... I don't know. :P Anyway, if you did, then I better shut up and let you get on with reading. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and even lovelier patience; you really are the best readers ever. :D**_

_**P.S – Also, this where the lyrics for the title song, Dismantle. Repair by Anberlin, start to kick in for the chapter titles... meaning we're nearing the climax of grapiness! :P **_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, just this story, which I've missed so much I want to hug it. :D**_

_**Chapter 39 – Hands, Like Secrets are the Hardest Things to Keep From You**_

* * *

Now this. This was just taking liberties. Hermione restrained from swearing and all but fell backwards to sit on the edge of the hotel bed, huffing out a loud, exasperated sigh. Just who the hell did he think he was? Clenching her teeth in anger to prevent herself from breaking anything she'd have to repair later, she looked down at the note in her hands again, unable to believe the nerve of him.

"Be ready, he said," she ground out, seething. "Be ready for eight o'clock sharp and don't make me wait while you fix your hair or whatever it is you women claim to spend so much time on in the morning."

Becoming aware that she was now just muttering angrily into thin air as though Severus would somehow hear her and see the error of his ways, Hermione huffed again and stood up. She dropped the note carelessly back on the bed and walked over to the mirror, teeth subconsciously worrying her bottom lip as she studied the dress once more and wondered, not for the first time, if she shouldn't have just put something else in. Something a little less new, a little less fancy, a little less... revealing. She grimaced and rolled her eyes, looking away from her reflection. She couldn't really do much about it now, aside from transfiguring the duvet cover into something. But considering that the pattern on that was, frankly, quite hideous, she supposed the green dress really would just have to do.

The note had been at the bottom of her door when she woke up that morning, presumably pushed under earlier, and simply read:

_Have gone to research a few things. Will be back at noon. Make sure you're ready or I'll go without you. _

Bloody bastard hadn't even bothered to sign the damn thing.

* * *

So here she was, stranded in a nondescript hotel room in Johannesburg, with nothing to do but sit around and wait until he got back. To put it simply, Hermione was not in the best of moods.

First, he treated her like dirt when all she had ever done was try to help him. Then, he practically threw her out without any explanation as to why when she had gone to him with the answer to their questions. And now, he grudgingly dragged her along to a city she had never visited before, told her to be ready at eight o'clock in the morning sharp and then decided to take himself off to Merlin knew where and change the time to twelve o'clock. And knowing him, when he did eventually return so they could go meet this contact of his, Hermione thought, he'd probably say something clever and make some snide remark and give her that smirk of his and make it look like _she_ was the one who had delayed them.

Hermione had always prided herself on being a reasonably patient, accommodating person. The Lord knew she had had to be that way, spending almost every day of every week of every month of every year for the past eight years or so with Harry and Ron. And she had tried to be patient with her former Potions professor, she really had. She had kept reminding herself that to carry out research with him was a brilliant opportunity, that she loved their work and the methodical, precise processes that were a part of it. And she did love it, she really did. But in the space of just a few days, she had gone from tolerating him (and Merlin forbid, actually _liking_ him), to wondering how long she could really stick this out for. There were only so many times she could brush off the snide comments, the temper, the angry bursts from nowhere, the insults, the put-downs, and see the man she _knew_ was beneath. The man who had started disappearing from view, to the point where Hermione wasn't sure if she had ever seen him in the first place anymore.

Over her shoulder, she sent the hastily scrawled note a withering glance and a sigh before wandering over to her still mostly unpacked suitcase. Doing that would kill time, if nothing else. She swore to Merlin though, if he pulled many more or these stunts, or treated her like an ignorant child just one more time... She wouldn't be held responsible for her actions.

In fact, it wasn't even that. Hermione knew she wouldn't actually do anything, and not just because he was Severus Snape and because to even try and hex him would be to basically dig your own grave and pick out a coffin big enough to fit the bits of you inside. She knew that if he carried on acting like this, walking around like a black storm of fury, for no reason (or no reason that she could see or that he would explain, anyway), she would just leave. She doubted she would even say anything. She'd just pack her bags again, hold her head high, and make her own way back home. She had tried so long now to convince herself this was worth it, but if that man she had started to see in him didn't come back, if Snape continued on like this, treating her like an obstacle that needed kicking out of the way, then she wasn't so sure it was worth it.

Was the blasted man really capable of no emotions, aside from anger and disappointment? The thought that perhaps he really was what most people seemed to think he was scared Hermione. Because in the last few weeks, she had been so sure... So sure that there was someone else there. Or rather, not someone else, just _him_ – who he truly was. Or had it all just been a trick of the light?

* * *

Severus, meanwhile, wasn't in the best of moods either. He had awoken that morning with the strong conviction that he just couldn't face her straight away. Hell, he wasn't sure he could face her at all, but after a long walk, he might just be able to force himself to. He wandered the streets aimlessly, taking care to stay in an area he vaguely knew and recognised, from the few times he had visited the city before. His strides were long and purposeful, as though he were walking with a destination in mind, when in reality, he had never felt more lost.

He was being a bastard. And he knew it. A first rate, class A bastard and what was worse, was that she was letting him. Why? He had treated her like she was worthless these past few days. He had thrown her out of his house, tried to come to Johannesburg without her, tried, in effect, to cut her off from their research, act like she had never helped him. Hell, he realised, with a twisting feeling of self-contempt. He hadn't even said thank you to her for coming up with what, for some reason, had evaded him. Platinum.

Swallowing, Severus turned a corner swiftly and clenched his teeth and fists again. Why the hell hadn't she walked away yet? Surely she had more pride than to put up with him much longer; she was a Gryffindor for heaven's sakes, and Hermione bloody Granger to boot. Hermione Granger wasn't talked down to; she wasn't ignored or rudely shoved aside. So why was she letting him? Why was she persistently insisting on following him everywhere, on continuing with their research, on not leaving him alone until he explained the foul mood he had found himself in?

He wished she would just go. Wished she could just see him for what he was – a bitter, twisted man who couldn't even appreciate a good thing when it was side by side with him almost every day for weeks on end. He remembered what Hestia had once said about good things being left unappreciated, and felt a sudden desire just to break something. An intense feeling of self-loathing coursed through him as he wondered why on earth he had ever let her into his life, bringing all her intelligence and stubbornness and curiosity and courage with her. And he had to go and treat her like shit. And why? Because she wouldn't leave, wouldn't let him alone without an explanation as to why he had suddenly turned cold towards her.

But how could he explain, when he could barely explain it to himself?

* * *

Stopping abruptly, Severus inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long, steady breath. It was clear to him what he should do, what any decent person would do – apologise. But that was where he hit a blank wall. When he tried to think back, Severus couldn't truly remember the last time he had ever said 'sorry' to anyone. At Hogwarts, he had been a law unto himself. If he missed a compulsory staff meeting, then it was because he damn well wanted to and McGonagall could argue with him till the cows came home; he wouldn't apologise for not being there.

In fact, now that Severus thought about it, the only time he could actually remember saying sorry to anyone was to Lily, after he called her a... He swallowed, a dark look coming over his face that said he'd much rather forget than remember.

With another deep breath, Severus turned on his heel and walked bristly away, back the way he had came, towards the hotel.

* * *

Once there, he strode through the reception, took the stairs practically two at a time, his expression a mask of stone, and knocked on her door. His body was held tense as he waited for her to answer it; it was ten to twelve now, and he knew better than to think she wouldn't be ready. Ten minutes was enough for an apology, surely.

* * *

When Hermione heard the knock on the door of her room, she briefly considered not answering it. She'd gone out. Gone home. Died, for all he probably cared. But no. With a sigh, she put down the book she was reading (thank God she'd thrown it in at the last minute) and got up to answer the door. For a reason she couldn't even name and wasn't sure she wanted to, she paused on the way to smooth down the dress in front of the mirror and to check her hair hadn't decided to go everywhere in the heat.

She let out a slightly shaky breath, placed her hand on the door handle, schooled her features into a blank look that displayed none of the anger she had been suppressing all morning, and opened the door. She opened her mouth to speak, and barely registered that he had done the same too. They spoke at the same time, and the words escaped them both in a rush.

"And what time do you call this?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione, taken aback, could only blink at him. Sorry? Sorry? He was... Sorry? She found she had to consciously make sure her mouth was closed, because she was so tempted just to let it fall open in shock. In all her years at Hogwarts, in all the weeks she had been carrying out research and experiments with him, she had never, not in all that time, ever, heard Severus Snape say he was sorry.

And Severus too, could only blink at her. A quick apology, was what he had had in mind. The briefest of 'I'm sorry's, and then turn, go back downstairs, and out to meet with his contact. Get everything all over and done with as quick as humanly possible.

What he hadn't expected was this.

Her hair fell in natural curls over her shoulders, let loose in a way he had never seen her wear it before. The green material, so deep she almost looked Slytherin, flowed gently over her hips, cinched in at the waist, made her look so much tinier and more delicate than he had ever perceived her to be. Unwittingly, he found his eyes straying to where the material gently plunged down into a 'V' at her chest, and then snapped his gaze up to her face again as though just the image had burned his irises. His lips were pressed into a straight line, and he felt that same, blasted stirring deep inside of him again, but so much more intense than before. And he had thought sitting for eleven hours next to her on a plane had been bad. This, just her standing there, wearing that, looking like that... This was so much worse.

Hermione managed to regain the power of speech before him, and had barely noticed the shock in his own eyes. "You're... You're sorry?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that would have almost made him proud in any other circumstances. Her hands automatically found her hips. "_Sorry_?"

She nodded her head at him slowly, and Severus suddenly got the feeling that this was all going horribly wrong, and he didn't like it. Didn't like not having control over a situation, didn't like not being in control of his own thoughts, his own reactions.

"You will be sorry," Hermione seethed, glaring at him as she felt fury build up inside of her. He couldn't even have the decency to respond to her, to react – to even put an expression on his blank face. A surge of red hot anger shot through her, and she drew herself up to her full height. "You've crossed the line, Snape, and you have _seriously_ pissed me off."

She took a vicious step towards him, face full of fury. For some reason, his apology had angered her more than his just showing up and demanding that she follow him would have done. Severus stood, a pillar of stone against her, wondering when, in the name of Merlin, had everything come to this.

* * *

_**Hm... I'm really not quite sure how this chapter has turned out, but I know that's where I want to leave it to set it up perfectly for the next chapter... So I apologise if this isn't so great, but I promise that next chapter will more than make up for it! At least... I hope so. :S Thank you very much for reading, and please, please review! I have missed hearing your thoughts and comments so much. :D**_

_**X :D**_


	40. Lines and Phrases Like Knives

_**Okay, so I definitely didn't mean to leave you all hanging for this long. I really am quite terrible; I apologise! :S But Christmas suddenly crept up and sprang itself on me as it always does and I lost track of everything. But I'm here, with the next chapter! I'm quite excited (if a little scared) about this one, actually, I just hope I've done the events justice and kept everyone in character – you know me and my constant anxieties about characterisation! Anyway, enough dunderheaded blabbering, as Severus would say. Here's the chapter.**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter is not mine, it never has been and nor will it ever be. :D **_

_**Chapter 40 – Lines and Phrases – Like Knives, Your Words Can Cut Me Through**_

* * *

Their glares were locked in battle. Hermione's dark and furious. Severus' stony and vacant. Both piercing.

Slowly, with what looked to Severus like pure loathing on her face, Hermione shook her head. "You are so out of order it's unreal. And to think – " She swallowed. "I trusted you. I stuck up for you. All that time at Hogwarts and after, when everyone thought you were playing Dumbledore for a fool, I trusted you. I defended you. And now, I help you. I work with you. I try to be as useful as I can and I agreed to assist you because I thought that maybe I'd get something out of it. Hell, I thought maybe even you would get something out of it!"

"I – "

She cut him off. All the words, all the arguments and accusations and inner rants that had been flying furiously around her head for the past few hours all came to the front of her mind now, all perfectly articulated, and began to propel off of her tongue without her barely having to think about it.

"No! I'm sick of this. We were getting along fine, and I don't know what's got into you, but it's like you suddenly put the walls up again, because you are treating me like dirt, Severus!"

"I know – "

Hermione's face was livid, and she was horrified to find tears building up in her eyes – hot and angry, ready to fall. "Oh you know, do you?" she snapped, glare intensifying. "So you're doing it on purpose." Nodding sarcastically, her lips twisted into a bitter, contemptuous smile. "Well, at least that makes sense," she said, and by now her voice was deathly quiet, but somehow, that only made her words so much more powerful. Rage and hurt seethed through every syllable.

"You've got what you needed, worked out what you wanted to know. Because you're the big Severus Snape, you don't need anyone to help you, let alone keep you company! Do you know how much time I've spent on this research? _Our_ research? You know, there are a thousand and one different things I could have been doing, but I chose this. Because I wanted to do it, because I wanted to help you. And it was working; I was actually, Merlin forbid, enjoying it! Do you understand that? I _enjoyed_ your company. Until you went cold again and started treating me like an obstacle that could be kicked out of the way once it had fulfilled its purpose."

Hermione felt the tears begin to drop from the corners of her eyes. They rolled, hot and furious down her cheeks and she sniffed, swiping them away with a quick, angry hand.

Frozen by the onslaught of furious words, not really knowing quite what to do, for he felt like he might just have some sort of internal breakdown at any moment because he had realised that he always managed to fuck up any sort of decent relationship with anyone past the point of no return, Severus opened his mouth to speak again.

And again, Hermione cut across him, fuming and continuing with her rant. "You're a bastard, Snape. And to think I almost thought that I could actually – "

There was a flash of movement, and before Hermione could barely register what had happened, he had taken what seemed like a menacing step towards her, and she moved back, away from him as quickly as possible, a split second reaction. The door to the hotel room swung shut behind them, shutting out the corridor.

"Will you just shut up for one minute, you insufferable woman, and listen to me?"

Hermione stared at him, startled. For a moment, there was silence as they glared at each other, both too stunned to speak. After a few impossibly long seconds, Severus' glare dropped from hers, and Hermione let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding.

Severus sucked in a breath, his whole body held tense as though anticipating some sort of onslaught. Though he knew better than to think she might actually pull her wand on him. She was angry, not stupid. Swallowing, he let the breath out and finally brought his gaze back up to meet Hermione's and for what was probably the first time in his life, he consciously told himself not to glare.

"I said," he ground out stiffly, "I'm sorry."

Hermione merely stood, and raised an eyebrow.

His gaze moved from her face to look beyond her and his jaw was tight. His words, when he spoke, were as sharp and articulated as ever, but slow and strained, as though he was measuring each one on his tongue before saying it. The words were foreign to him.

"I apologise for the way I've treated you. Believe me when I say that my intention was not to hurt you."

* * *

"Hurt me?" Hermione exclaimed, her eyebrows rocketing. "You haven't just _hurt_ me, Severus; I'm furious! You've made me feel like absolute shit and for what? You won't even explain why you suddenly decided to hate me again."

"I don't hate you." Severus gritted his teeth and tried to restrain himself from casting a silencing charm on her. He clenched his fists tightly instead.

He had apologised – he had said sorry, had told the truth. He didn't want to hurt her. Hell, it was killing him to watch those tear tracks ruin her face. Why was she making this so God damn difficult for him? It was hard enough as it was, admitting he was wrong, facing up to what he had done – to her, no less. Why couldn't an apology just be enough?

"Well you've got a funny way of showing it," she snapped, turning away from him for a moment to run a hand through her hair and take a deep breath. She whirled back around to face him, and was surprised to find him closer than before. Swallowing, she looked up at him, not knowing whether to laugh bitterly or cry.

"Are you really so incapable of emotion?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Severus stared back at her blankly, not knowing how to respond. He was tired, frustrated and above all, emotionally exhausted. He barely knew what to think, let alone say, anymore. And that only made his fists curl tighter as he thought of how she had somehow made him into everything he had never, ever wanted to be. He was Severus Snape – he was powerful, always in control of his own thoughts, his own actions and emotions. He said what happened and how it happened. He said who, what, when and where. But not when it came to Hermione Granger, it seemed.

"All you seem to feel is hatred and anger and disappointment and spite. You know I thought that was just who you appeared to be on the outside; I thought that maybe I was starting to see a different side of you – a side of you that cared about something, that could appreciate and enjoy things. But no." She swallowed, and the fiery resentment that flared up in her watery eyes burned Severus right through to the core.

"You really are just twisted, aren't you?"

* * *

_He was cowering in a corner, shaking. His father was staggering towards him – a large shape, black and looming. _

"_You're nothing special. You're not a wizard. There is no magic. You're just evil, and weird, and twisted." _

_He felt the punch before it even hit him._

* * *

Severus turned away from her, and forced the angered words out through gritted teeth, his nails digging into his palms. "_I'm not_."

And then, he turned to round on her again, his black form towering over her. "Why can't an apology ever be enough for you, Granger?" he seethed darkly, piercing her with black eyes. "You're a stubborn Gryffindor through and through. You've got another thing coming if you think I'm going to grovel at your feet and offer to exchange my blood for forgiveness."

"I don't want you to grovel!" Hermione cried, wide-eyed and tearful, gesturing wildly with her arms as she stepped back, away from him. "And I do accept your apology, but it's not enough!"

"No, it wouldn't be, would it?"

"That's not it!" she shouted, and by now her hair was wild about her face, giving her a maddened expression. She let out a heavy breath, suddenly slumping over on herself as if all the fight had left her in an instant. Her head dropped into her hands. After a moment, sighing, she dragged her face out from behind her hands and looked at him hopelessly.

"I just want to know _why_. I just want to know that you're capable of any emotions other than negative ones! So many people say you're evil, despite your acquittal. They make out like you're some hideous, dark beast, like a vile disease or something. And I don't want to believe that. But you're making it really, really hard."

Severus' eyes narrowed, and his lips formed a thin line. "Well if that's what you think of me, Granger, then go."

"No! I don't think – "

"_GO_!"

His bellow reverberated around the room, and in that instant Hermione suddenly felt like a frightened, intimidated schoolgirl again as she jumped and scurried back from him.

"But – " she cried, eyes wide. "I didn't say that – "

The look on Severus' face was thunderous, and the flash in his eyes was that of a man at the end of his tether, and all out of patience. The unspoken words hung in the air.

_I'm not going to tell you again. _

Hermione swallowed, and her gaze flickered to her bag. She could go. She could grab it and run. She could go home and never ever have to associate with him ever again. Why shouldn't she go? What reason was there to stay and help a man who so desperately wanted her out of his life, who treated her like shit? She had had enough of that from Carl, thank you very much.

At that thought, she very almost did go. She very almost did just grab her suitcase and get out of there, determined to never see or speak to him again. But Gryffindors weren't just stubborn, they were courageous too. And there was a stirring in the pit of her stomach and a desperate voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to let this go.

She swallowed again. Her gaze snapped back to Severus. He was holding himself – a pillar of stone – blankly in the middle of the room, waiting with seething expression and dark eyes for her to leave. And then, Hermione did possibly the bravest and stupidest thing she could have done.

She walked over, with her head held high and shoulders back, her face set with steely determination, brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders, and kissed him.

* * *

As soon as she pressed her lips to his, she felt him stiffen, go cold. She ignored it. Closing her eyes, she moved her lips gently, coaxingly over his. Her heart was racing and thudding in her chest, and she was sure her hands were shaking where they rested against his shoulders, but her kiss was sure and steady.

But nothing. No reaction. No sign that he could even _feel_ her lips moving against his. She might as well have been kissing a statue. Hermione felt a surge of raging frustration course through her and her blood caught fire, anger and determination spreading through her veins. She kissed him harder, attacking his lips now with an almost animal-like ferocity, desperately trying to force _some_ kind of reaction out of him, to make him show some kind of emotion towards her. She wanted to believe that he wasn't as cold and unfeeling as the less complex parts of her brain were starting to tell her he was, needed to feel him actually respond to something she said or did.

And then, as though in a sudden instant all the ice had melted away and been replaced by fire, he started kissing her back. Suddenly, his lips were moving against hers, fighting, attacking her back with all the viciousness of a hungry animal, devouring its prey. Hermione felt one hand tangle tightly in the curls at the back of her head, almost hurting her, holding her to him, and his other hand came to press against the small of her back. She wasn't going anywhere.

The kiss was a battle for dominance – lips clashing, tongues fighting, movements desperate and violent. Hermione felt tears streaming down her face as they kissed, but still she clung to him, refusing to pull away.

Severus was gone. He kissed her back like an animal who hadn't tasted meat for years, holding her tightly to him. The thought that perhaps he was hurting her barely flitted across his mind as the taste of her roared on his tongue and blocked all other coherent thought.

And then he felt warm, sticky dampness on his cheeks. Tears. Not his. Hermione's. It was like a sharp, condensed shot of sobering potion to the brain, and the reality of what he was doing hit him like a tonne of bricks. This wasn't right. This was the furthest thing from right. He jerked back from her, breaking the kiss and stared at her – she was crying, shuddering and gasping for breath with swollen lips.

Then, anger slowly started to seep into his shocked system, and that built up into a steadily boiling fury as she stared back at him, with something close to bittersweet triumph shining in her eyes. The words slipped out from in between his teeth as his fingers slid out from the tangles in her hair, and his voice was like cold steel and velvet.

"_Get. Out._"

* * *

_**Trembles with fear a little... Oh Gods you're all going to kill me... Putting this up at Christmas was not a good idea, but... Oh God, I really, really need to know what you think of this! And please tell me honestly. If it's bad, if you don't think this is how things should have gone at all, please say so. I was erring between two decisions of what could happen in this chapter, and something told me to take a risk and go for this... And when I started writing it, I just naturally built up to this rather than the other option... Gah, really nervous about this now, so please let me know your thoughts!**_

_**X :D**_

_**P.S – Oh... and Merry Christmas. *slightly tentatively happy face* **_


	41. You Dismantle Me

_**Wow, I am actually so pleasantly surprised that I can't put it into words or thank you enough! No death threats, no hatred, no anger… Well, there probably is now it took me around three weeks to get this next chapter out, but… hey! :P So yes, thank you all so much for your lovely as ever reviews; I'm glad you're all okay with what I did with the story last chapter. :D And so yes, here is the next one… Might not be exactly what you want, but… I don't think Severus and Hermione are ones for immediate reconciliation, are you? :P Enjoy anyway! :D**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter isn't mine. There, I said it. What more do you want, blood? :D **_

_**Chapter 41 – You Dismantle Me**_

* * *

Not for the first time in her life, Hermione found herself cursing her inability to apparate over long distances. And, in fact, everybody's. As she stared out of the window, the rumble through her seat signalling that the plane was preparing for take off, she let out a long sigh and dropped her head down into her hands.

She didn't know what had possessed her. What strange, mysterious force had persuaded her that kissing Severus Snape out of the blue when he was angry was a good idea? Why the hell had she even _wanted_ to? If she had actually _wanted_ to do it at all. She had wanted to know that he was capable of some other emotion, some other reaction besides anger and disappointment and spite, she knew that much… She had wanted to see if he was really truly able to be open without the cover of sneering and smirking and sarcasm. But kissing him? Really? She shook her head and sighed again, dragging her hands up her face to run through her hair. She couldn't have ruined everything more if she'd tried.

And then, running away like that. The look of ice cold fire that had been in his eyes was burned into her irises. His cold words, like daggers slicing cleanly through crisp silk, were still ringing in her ears. Even when Hermione closed her eyes, she could still see him, could still hear him… Could still feel his cool lips against her own, the long fingers grasping painfully at her curls, anchoring her to him. Sat there on the plane, warm and stuffy with the breath and chatter of dozens of other passengers, she could still feel shivers running down her spine.

"_Get. Out."_

She was a grown woman now, not a girl. Not a student, not a silly little child that scurried out of classrooms on his say so. She was his assistant, his companion… a friend. Hermione swallowed. Yes, she had done something stupid, and yes, she didn't even know why she had done it… Or rather, she did know why she had done it but she wasn't sure she wanted to think about that or knew how to think about that at that moment in time… Everything was such a mess. Her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion in her head, knotted up with emotions she couldn't define and ideas she couldn't justify. But he had no right – no right to tell her to get out like that. No right to stand there, glaring his most chilling glare, until she grabbed her suitcase in a panic and disappeared with a crack into thin air, barely able to think clearly to apparate properly. It was a miracle she had arrived at the airport without splinching herself.

But when it all came down to it, even Hermione had to admit, that it all came down to the fact that she was scared. This… _This_ scared her possibly more than anything else ever had in her life.

Devil's Snare? Just relax. Potion's Riddle? Simply use your logic. Deadly snake slinking its way around the corridors? Use a mirror to look round corners. Werewolf? Run. Saving the lives of both Sirius Black and Buckbeak? Time turner. Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries? Use your wand, think fast and run. Death Eaters at Hogwarts? Same again. Horcruxes? Stab them with the sword of Gryffindor. Bellatrix Lestrange? Keep quiet, be clever and pray.

Severus Snape?

* * *

Hermione swallowed again, burying her head in her hands again as she squeezed her eyes tight shut and willed herself not to cry. Tears weren't going to get her anywhere. Because this was exactly the problem – that was it. There was no answer, there was no definite solution. Those other things hadn't been easy to fight and deal with, not by a long stretch, but at least there had been some sort of logical way to cope, some method of attack. But with this… This was two people's feelings, two people's lives and her heart and their minds and…

She didn't know what to do.

It had finally happened. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger had come up against a problem that couldn't be solved by a simple trip to the library or some skilled wand work and a hefty amount of luck.

There was too much to think about, too much to process and she couldn't cope with it all at that moment in time. There were a million questions, all vying to be answered in her head. A million thoughts, all screaming out for her attention. A million emotions, tugging on her and pulling on her from every direction so that she could barely think straight at all. It was, in short, overwhelming. And to think, all this had come from just one kiss.

Just one stupid, irrational, ridiculous, passionate, amazing, rash, impulsive and unexplainable kiss.

* * *

She had wanted to make him feel alive – had wanted to force some kind of emotional response out of him. But it had made her feel alive too – so much more alive than she had ever felt at school, during the war, with Ron, with Carl… It was like an explosion had been set off inside her and she was still suffering from the after effects. Now, she wasn't so sure feeling alive was a sensation she particularly liked. How did people cope with this? All these emotions, all these illogical, nonsensical thoughts that couldn't be ordered or repressed… It was driving her insane.

Hermione felt a colossal wave of exhaustion break over her, sweeping all her energy away with it and leaving her numb, unable to think. It wasn't a sensation she liked but it was preferable to the hyperactivity she just didn't possess the strength to compete with in her brain. With a final, reluctant sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. The seat rumbled beneath her, but sleep was claiming her consciousness and Hermione was barely aware of the plane as it sped down the runway and lifted into take-off. All she wanted to do was sleep and wake up to find that it had all been a dream. One horrible, nonsensical, ridiculous dream that could just be forgotten about.

* * *

It hadn't been a dream.

Hermione woke to the sound of the seatbelt light pinging back on as the plane hit turbulence, and an air hostess asked her to pull the shutter of her window down. Feeling oddly disconnected from her whole body as she groggily tried to wake herself up, Hermione complied and then sat back, taking a moment to just breathe and gather her thoughts.

Sleep. Sleep was what she had needed, evidently. The storm that had been raging through her mind beforehand was significantly calmer, but now she was just left with the overwhelming feeling that she had done something very, very stupid indeed. She had ruined everything. Everything she had worked for – the research, the potions, her relationship with her former Professor… All gone in one, silly argument that for reasons still elusive to her, had ended in a kiss. It didn't feel real; Hermione couldn't get her head around it. Thinking on it, she just couldn't comprehend now what had made her do it. How was kissing him out of the blue going to solve anything? How was that going to make him explain why he had so suddenly turned cold on her again? All she had achieved was this – everything broken and beyond repair.

* * *

Hermione passed the remaining few hours of the flight in absent dejection – she felt somehow detached from her body and the other passengers around her. There was a constant buzzing in her ears that she just couldn't stop, her mind had refused to cease racing, and no matter how many times she told herself it was silly and wouldn't solve anything, her eyes kept filling up with tears so that she had to keep tightly closing them and firmly telling herself that crying was not a good idea. Because she was scared that if she started, she wouldn't stop. It just felt like her whole world had come crashing down around her, and everything was in such a mess, it would never be normal again.

As soon as the plane landed and she was cleared through customs and security, there was only one place Hermione wanted to go. Only one place she could think of to go. She couldn't face going home – couldn't face the empty silence of her apartment, the barren rooms, devoid of all life, forcing her back into the realms of her own confused, exasperated thoughts once again. The mere thought of it seemed like hell.

* * *

She all but stumbled across the threshold of Henrietta's bookstore just as it was approaching closing time. The bitterly cold weather was still out in full force in London; Hermione's face was pale and she shivered as she shut the door behind her, shuffling forwards toward the counter. Her body still shook though it was cosily warm inside the shop, but she convinced herself that her lip was merely quivering from the cold.

With an apology about just being ready to close up shop on the tip of her tongue, Henrietta looked up to address her, then realised who it was, and stopped. For a moment, the softly-spoken old woman just stared at Hermione, taking in her dishevelled hair, watery eyes and quivering lip. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her eyelids were red, as though she had been repeatedly crying and trying to stop. Her whole body was shaking, and her arms were wrapped around herself as though at any moment, she might just fall apart into little pieces on the floor.

Henrietta's eyes widened slightly in alarm, and she eased herself up from her perch on the stool as quickly as her aching bones would allow her.

"Hermione, my dear," she said, moving towards her with concern written in the lines of her face. "Whatever is the matter? You look as though you've had quite a shock."

Hermione nodded, and felt tears building up in her eyes. This time, she let them spill down her cheeks as she felt herself being enveloped in Henrietta's arms, still shivering in the cardigan that had been perfectly fine for African weather, though not so much for London in winter. It was only now that the thought crossed her mind that she could have just transfigured it into a coat.

"I-I think I have…" she replied, voice shaking. Her voice was so forlorn, so helpless, that Henrietta couldn't help but feel her heart break a little for the young woman who felt so fragile in her arms and not at all like the brave, outgoing and confident woman she knew her to be.

"Oh Merlin, Henrietta… I-I think I've just about m-managed to ruin everything…"

* * *

_**I apologise for the slight shortness of this chapter, but I saw that as a good a place to leave off as any. I did say Henrietta would be back soon; I've quite missed her! I hope this chapter was okay, and please review. You'll be hearing from Severus soon too, never fear! **_

_**X :D**_


	42. Call This A Prelude

_**Six hundred reviews! Gah! *insert keyboard smash here*. Wow, thank you all so much! The response I've had for this story so far is amazing; I can't believe you all still put up with me and my evil cliff-hangers and delays between chapters. :) You're all wonderful, thank you. In this chapter I'm hoping to clear a few things up with Severus' side of things… Which I'm very worried about because writing him at this stage of any romance fic is always rather scary because as I write, I can almost picture all of you behind me, scrutinising everything with the omnipresent phrase 'OOC' on the tips of your tongues. :P So I'm hoping I keep him as in character as possible – please don't be afraid to tell me if I don't. :) And now, I'm going to stop babbling and let you get on with reading the chapter.**_

_**P.S – Oh, also, I forgot – you've probably noticed that the titles for the last few chapters, and for the upcoming chapters, are song lyrics – from the song this story is titled for. So yeah… each chapter title is sort of a condensed version of the lyric so it actually fits with the chapter content, then I've put the actual lyric in brackets for you, just in case you're interested… It's an excellent song, and one that's always made me think of Severus and Hermione. :D **_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter is not mine. Never has, never will be. I'm just playing with JK's toys very, very carefully. :P **_

_**Chapter 42 – Call This A Prelude (to a lifetime of you)**_

* * *

"Bugger."

Severus scowled down at his left hand and dropped the knife that was in his right, glaring as a thin trickle of blood slowly oozed out of the cut he had just spliced into his forefinger. Cursing himself and just about everything around him, he flicked his wand at the cauldron bubbling away to the right of him to turn the heat down so that the potion wouldn't spoil, and turned away from his workbench to inspect the damage.

Bloody knife. Bloody wandering thoughts. Bloody anger. Bloody Hermione-bloody-Granger. A simple Sleeping Draught. That was all he was brewing. The simplest, least complex of potions, and he had cut himself. Carelessness in the highest form. He gritted his teeth as he pointed his wand at the offending finger and healed it up. The scowl on his face was one that had been permanently etched there for days, and even now his finger was perfectly healed again, with no sign showing that he had ever cut it in the first place, he glared down at it, and then at the knife resting innocently on his workbench. Merlin, even the most dunderheaded of first years could brew a Sleeping Draught without injuring themselves. He was Severus Snape, a skilled Potions Master, so why on earth was he making silly mistakes and allowing his concentration to wander whilst there was a knife in his hand?

Muttering more angered curses under his breath, Severus shook his head to himself and turned back to his cauldron, casting a cursory glance inside to check it was still the correct colour and consistency. He would _not_ allow the foolish Gryffindor chit to distract him any longer. He had been able to brew perfectly competently before she came along, and he could brew perfectly competently now that she was no longer assisting him. And it was only a bleeding Sleeping Draught for goodness sake – not even anything to do with their – _his_ – research.

Pausing with that thought in mind, Severus steeled himself and with clenched fists, glanced over to where his notes were sat, untouched for days, on the table in the corner. Next to them was a small box, which on opening would reveal a small amount of platinum – just the kind with the magical properties they – _he_ - needed. He hadn't used any yet. Upon his return from Johannesburg a few days ago, he had placed the small box, along with his notes, on that table, and hadn't so much as looked through them since. He hadn't drawn up a plan for any experiments, hadn't touched the platinum, and hadn't done anything to do with that research whatsoever.

He told himself that there were other things that needed brewing first – Minerva had sent him a letter asking as politely as possible if there was any way he could whip up a few Pepper-Up potions for them because it seemed half the student population of Hogwarts had fallen ill with colds and Poppy quite simply couldn't keep up with demand for the potion whilst caring for students too, his own stores of Sleeping Draught and various headache and joint pain remedies were running low, and… Yes, the Rheumatism salve for Henrietta that she would be needing some more of soon, no doubt.

Severus hadn't ventured near the bookstore since his return, partly because he wasn't in need of any new books, and partly because of an unacknowledged fear that Henrietta might have seen or spoken to the insane Granger woman at some point in the past week or so. Letting out a long sigh and realising that now his thoughts had well and truly gone past the point of recall (although he could occlude but found that a tiresome business to do completely now after all those years of permanently hiding his own thoughts from even himself), he flicked his wand at the cauldron, turned off the heat and with his features still set in the darkest of scowls, made his way up the steps and out of his laboratory. His bottle of Ogden's was calling.

* * *

The alcohol both burned and soothed his throat at the same time as he knocked back a large mouthful and leant back in his chair, staring sightlessly ahead at the misted up window that clouded the London street outside from view behind a haze of ice and frost. It had been almost a week now, and still Severus' head was spinning, round and round through an endless cycle of thoughts that he had examined and analysed and broken down from every single possible angle time and time again, yet they continually irked him, because he couldn't find an answer.

What, in the name of Merlin and all that was holy, could have possibly possessed her of the notion of kissing him? And kissing him like _that_, moreover. His mind had most certainly gone through every conceivable possibility, every idea that could have flitted across her incredibly deranged mind at that moment, and not one of them was even slightly believable.

Had she wanted to do it? The idea was laughable; or at least, if he didn't laugh, he was certain he might cry. Had it been to prove a point, to make a laughing stock of him? Surely not, if she had run away in that manner afterwards and had so far made no effort to ever see him again or make fun of him. As a bet, part of a ridiculous, inane game with the Weasley girl or something? No… She was insufferable and, as he had recently concluded, definitely a few twigs short of a broomstick, but she wasn't spiteful or possessed of the ability to humiliate a former Professor. So what then? His brain had come up with a million more possibilities, each more ridiculous and far-fetched from the last. Never before had Severus Snape found himself confronted by a puzzle he couldn't solve, and he was infuriated to find it arrive in the form of Hermione Granger.

His upper lip curled in distaste. It was as if the Gods were mocking him.

* * *

The sight of her face as they broke the kiss was burned into the forefront of his memory, and every time he closed his eyes, the muddled look of confusion, dismay, panic and shock that had been clear in her eyes hovered there, taunting him. It wasn't her intellect or smile or tight-fitting t-shirts that haunted him now – it was that expression; it was the tears glistening on her flushed cheeks and the way her lips had been swollen and her hair a mess about her face. The memories and that image in particular stirred up an emotion in him he hardly knew how to identify. He had been struggling with an inexplicable attraction before, had been wrestling with the way his own feelings responded to her, against the will and better judgments of his thoughts. But this was… this was different. The way she had looked at him when he told her to get out, the way she had fled from the room and the way she had left looking so very erratic and broken, it made him feel… He didn't know what it made him feel exactly, but it made him feel something he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. Not on this level, anyway.

For a while, for the first few days after he returned, he had tortured himself with thoughts of how he had done that to her. How he was the cause of those tears, the one who had put that broken expression on her face when he had so viciously torn his lips away from hers. How she was bright and intelligent and funny; how she, for whatever ridiculous reason, seemed to care about him and about what he thought, she wanted to help him, wanted to learn from him. How she was eager for life and for education in whatever form… and how he had ruined that – ruined her.

And then, a few days earlier, he had realised. He hadn't done that. It wasn't his bloody fault. He hadn't asked for this. He had asked for an assistant, not a busy bodying know-it-all that decided for some reason to become so interested in his welfare and becoming a part of his life. She had done that to herself. There was no reason for her to become so involved, she had no right. There was no need for her to accompany him to Johannesburg, and it wasn't as though he did anything to encourage her to kiss him. Good God, it was quite the opposite – surely. He had been treating her like shit. And yes he had felt bad and yes he had apologised, but that didn't give her license to kiss him, good Merlin! Regardless of whatever reasons she may or may not have had for doing so.

With a heavy sigh, Severus leant forward and firmly set his empty tumbler down on the coffee table with a loud thud. He didn't care anymore. His emotions were confused, yes, but that hardly mattered. His brain and his logic could take care of that – his research and his work could occupy him perfectly fine. Hermione Granger would be forgotten in a matter of weeks; she wasn't a pivotal, vital part of his research or his life. And he concluded that she would just have to deal with that; she probably already had. Was probably getting on with her silly job at that newspaper and had allowed her embarrassment to let her forget all about it.

Just because she had helped him for a few weeks, just because she had come up with platinum, that didn't give her the right to anything. It wasn't as though he wouldn't have arrived at the same answer without her. She couldn't simply come up with one answer, and then think that gave her the right to know everything he was thinking and feeling at every second of every waking minute. Because it didn't. His thoughts and feelings were his own for him to deal with, and she was nothing to do with it. She couldn't just barge in here, help him out a bit and then decide that doing that gave her an all-access pass to every aspect of his life. He didn't work like that and she was deluding herself if she thought he ever could.

* * *

Yes, Severus thought as he leant back in his armchair, a sour scowl still resting on his features as though it lived there. Hermione Granger would soon be a dim and distant memory to him, as he was sure he would become for her. That was what was for the best, lest she annoy him any longer. She wouldn't be around to torture him and confuse the emotions he had for so long had perfect control over, and he couldn't irritate or anger her anymore, as he so clearly did, apparently.

Problem solved.

But just as he was resolving himself in that decision, a sharp knock sounded at the front door. Severus froze, and his eyes darted towards the hallway that was visible through his living room door. This had better bloody not be her. Heaving another long, drawn-out sigh, he got up out of his chair and made his way to the door. He steeled himself, stood so he was blocking the way in for whoever it was, and opened the door.

What he saw there surprised him.

"Mrs Hartington."

The cool blue eyes that usually greeted him so warmly pierced his, and Henrietta didn't smile. "Severus." Her lips were pursed, and Severus felt a frown inflect his scowling expression.

Stepping back, he opened the door wider to admit her in. He closed the door and turned to face her. There was a silent pause, and then: "This is a… pleasant surprise. I have some of the Rheumatism salve almost brewed for you if you are in need of some more-"

"No, Severus, I'm not here for anything like that," Henrietta said, and her words were unusually clipped. Severus studied the way she was standing – back straight, hands down by her sides, a fearsome thing to behold. There had always been a proud, resilient power to her demeanour beneath the kindliness – she was a Slytherin after all – but there was something in her steady gaze now that almost reminded him of Minerva.

"Hermione has quit her job at the _Phoenix_. I haven't seen her with a smile on her face for over a week. She constantly stares at the ground and when she does actually deign to leave her apartment, she walks around as though she's trying to be invisible; she couldn't look less indistinguishable if she cast a permanent disillusionment charm upon herself, Severus. There are bags under her eyes; her skin is dry as if she hasn't been looking after herself properly. She looks thinner, almost lifeless. She tries to talk to me normally and with her friends, I'm sure, but there's nothing there. She isn't the same."

With an abrupt tilt of the head, Henrietta piercingly met his gaze.

"So what I want, Severus, is an explanation. I want to know precisely what it is you think you're doing."

And then, before he could even respond or express his surprise at her suddenly harsh approach to him, Henrietta's face softened a little, and she stepped towards him. He stood there, completely perplexed, as she placed a gentle hand on his arm and looked up at him with almost pitying eyes, shaking her head.

"Are you completely blind, Severus, my dear?"

* * *

_**Oh I know, me and my cliff-hangers… Don't pretend you don't like them. :P I am sorry to leave it there, but not very sorry, because I'm very much looking forward to the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed this, and I desperately hoped nothing was too out of character! Please, please, please don't be afraid to tell me however harshly, if it was. **_

_**X :D**_

_**P.S – Also, I have a poll on my profile page, and I'd be really grateful if you were to go vote on it. I have already turned sixteen (my birthday was yesterday! :D) but yes, I'm still deliberating… It'll become clear when you see it. :) **_


	43. Hanging On

_**Hello, my lovelies! :D Thank you very much as always for your reviews and comments; they are much appreciated! And without further ado, because I'm determined not to waffle in this A/N again, here is the next chapter! Hope you like it. :D **_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter is not mine… I did want it for my sixteenth but unfortunately that's not allowed. :P**_

_**Chapter 43 – Hanging On**_

* * *

Not for the first time that day, Hermione let out a loud huff of frustration and threw down the stirring rod in her hand with a viciousness worthy of the Hungarian Horntail. Backing away from the workbench she had set up in the newly sterilised area of her lounge which was now serving as a makeshift laboratory (a temporary arrangement until she found better premises), and glaring at it as though it had personally done something to offend her, she dropped down onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Leaning forward, she wearily propped her elbows on her knees and pushed her fingers through her hair, pulling a face as she did so. The once half-tamed, half-tangled curls were now matted and greasy from the effects of standing over a cauldron for too long, day after day, without bothering to wash it.

Well what was the point? Hermione thought with another sigh, reluctantly dragging her gaze back up to look across the room at her cauldron, which now held the remains of her latest failed experiment. It wasn't as if anyone was going to see her in this state anyway.

This wasn't working. Nor was it doing her any good, as Henrietta had repeatedly told her the last time she had slipped into the shop for a few research books. She had been ignoring the old woman's well-meant concerns, but now Hermione had to admit that this wasn't healthy. Quitting one's job to embark on a new career or take up personal research was all alright and everyone at the _Phoenix_ had wished her all the best – Hestia had even confessed that she'd seen it coming, that she hadn't been able to picture Hermione being a journalist all her life (albeit a good one) when she had the potential to do so much more.

But this… These desperate, almost artless attempts at experimenting weren't getting her anywhere. She had the background knowledge, and the logic behind her ideas and in the theory work was sound – even Henrietta had said as much – but every time she attempted a practical experiment, she never yielded the correct results. Her inexperience with actually brewing and experimenting completely alone embarrassed her, even though there was no-one around to see her get it wrong. Despite this, Hermione still felt like she was constantly waiting and listening out for the familiar low, silky drawl of her former Potions professor and research partner, correcting her in an action and taking pleasure in telling her what a stubborn, insufferable failure she was.

* * *

She couldn't shake him from her thoughts. Every time she went to brew, all she could think was that it was useless trying to do it without him and several times she had almost given up and yearned to crawl back to Hestia to beg for her job back. Only her stubbornness, determination and Gryffindor pride stopped her from doing so.

But every time she picked up a knife, she would instantly remember how Severus' hand always gripped the handle so effortlessly, one long, pale and elegant finger resting atop the blade to ensure complete control and precision. Whenever she stirred her experimental concoctions, an anxious look of concentration on her face, she would recall the way Severus would stir his potions, his expression one of calm, serene confidence, his wrist barely seeming to move as he expertly infused one ingredient with another. And then the onslaught would come. Hermione found herself bombarded by images and memories every time she came to brew – images and memories of him.

She could visualise the exact posture he maintained whilst brewing – his spine straight and neck just inclined slightly down towards his cauldron, a stance that seemed so graceful and controlled compared to her worried slump. She remembered how he moved about the laboratory, with strides so swift and purposeful, never once knocking a single thing over, that he had always looked as though he could be gliding. Hermione constantly had images in her mind of the deft way in which he sliced, powdered and added ingredients, of how he knew instinctively how much or how little of what was required, with hardly any need for measuring scales, and she could remember exactly the mask-less expression he wore when brewing. He was always calm and focused, silently exerting power and control, sometimes without moving a muscle. Hermione had admitted to herself after the first time assisting Severus, when Henrietta was injured, that she was fascinated by the way he brewed so skilfully and effortlessly, but now she found herself thinking of other details too.

There was the way he spoke whilst brewing that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine, his voice barely ever above a low, velvet murmur, and there was the way his fingers used to briefly brush hers when she handed him things, his surprisingly warm skin causing hers to flush and spark at the contact. She remembered the way his shirt would occasionally cling to him if the lab grew too warm from the potion fumes, revealing a lean torso and sharp shoulder blades; he would roll his sleeves up to his elbows on those occasions, and Hermione recalled the sight of his rumpled shirt and pale forearms – strong and toned without being muscly, the dark mark all but faded away to nothing but a faint, pale scar. And then, there was the scent that would infiltrate her sinuses whenever she occasionally stood too close, trying to observe what was happening more closely; it was the smell of dark wood and herbs, with something almost sweet, a cinnamon like smell that hung in the air about him, musky and warm.

If she closed her eyes, Hermione could still smell that familiar scent as if he was stood directly in front of her. Letting out a long sigh, she fell sideways into a lying position on the sofa and gave into the exhaustion weighing down every one of her tired limbs. She couldn't have slept for more than a few hours over the past few days; it was like she was almost scared to drift off, to lose consciousness, because whenever she did, the memories of that stupid, reckless but oh so wonderful kiss came rushing back, and she wasn't awake to suppress them.

In her dreams, she could still feel Severus' lips on hers, warm and passionate, his tongue caressing and lashing all at once. She could feel his hand at the back of her head, fingers tangled almost painfully in her curls as he held her possessively to him with another strong hand at the small of her back. The lingering taste of him danced tantalisingly on her tongue, intoxicating and poisonous; he was like a ghost, ever present, ever enduring, always there to torture her the moment she slipped and allowed her mind to wander.

It hadn't even been a _pleasant_ kiss. It had been brutal and frenzied, bordering on violent, but Hermione was damned if she was going to deny it had been a good one. In the fitful minutes when she was tossing and turning in bed, torn halfway between sleeping and consciousness, she desperately yearned for his lips against hers again, for his arms to hold her tightly against him, to feel him respond to her with a passion she hadn't thought he was capable of. It both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure, and for the past week or so, Hermione had been hopelessly torn between the conflicting mix of fear and excitement in her chest. Half her wanted to never see Severus again, and the other half of her wanted nothing more than to never leave his side.

A loud, exasperated and tortured groan came from Hermione as she pulled herself back up into a sitting position, holding her head in her hands as though that would contain the scrambled mess of emotions and thoughts haranguing her brain. She shook her head, unable to believe the situation she had found herself in.

She had found herself coming to like and admire him yes, and had long ago decided that wanting to put their past differences aside and work with him as an assistant and dare she think it, a friend, was all well and good. Better than good, in fact. It made her happy, working with him, being with him. She enjoyed it.

But really? Was this really her dilemma, the situation she now found herself in, stuck with no visible means of escape? She wasn't sure whether she liked the idea of it or not, but there was something inside her that kept hanging onto him for some reason, and letting go, whenever she thought about it, seemed like a horrible, impossible option.

Hermione had never, not in her wildest dreams, thought that she would end up falling for Severus Snape.

* * *

"She's doing _what_?" Severus asked, sitting up straighter in his armchair to look at Henrietta with renewed interest and surprise in his eyes. He felt himself slowly shaking his head to himself, stunned. He knew she was impossible and difficult and every bit as stubborn as he was, damn her, but this was… This was quite simply beyond belief.

Henrietta looked back at him calmly and placed her teacup back into its saucer. "You heard what I said, Severus, dear. She has decided to take up her own potions research and development."

He continued to stare at her, astonished. His mouth opened once, only to close again, as he slowly turned the concept over in his mind. As soon as the power of articulate speech returned to him once more, he asked: "And what exactly does the deranged woman think she is capable of achieving on her own?"

"Severus!" Henrietta pursed her lips at him and shook her head. She still couldn't believe how such an intelligent man could be so ignorant of something so obvious; but then, neither could she believe how an intelligent woman such as Hermione could be so ignorant of the exact same thing too. She really would take great pleasure in… what was that Muggle saying her son's wife kept saying?... Ah yes, that was it – she would very much like to bash both their heads together to make them see sense.

Sighing, the elderly woman met Severus' gaze and smiled almost pityingly. He looked back at her with narrowed eyes, but she ignored him.

"She is, as far as I can gather, hoping to modify your _Recro Memoria_ potion so that it will restore not only memories, but also sanity. I didn't ask, but it's quite clear that she has the Longbottoms firmly at the forefront of her mind."

A thousand thoughts erupted in Severus' mind all at once. The first emotions to surface were indignation and outrage – how _dare_ she even consider an attempt to meddle with _his_ creation? The second thought that came into his head was that this was typical of her. Ever the constantly prying Gryffindor, forever trying to right wrongs and achieve the impossible.

He let out a long, terse sigh and clicked his tongue. Henrietta recognised the signs of anger in his taut expression and when he spoke his voice was strained, one hand curling into a fist where it rested on his thigh.

"One of these days Hermione sodding Granger will realise that not _everyone's_ suffering can be relieved, even if they deserve to be cured, and I am quite sure that that will be the day I drop dead from the sheer shock of such an occurrence," he growled, glaring down at the floor, seething.

"Severus," Henrietta said softly, "She's just trying to do something useful. I think somewhere in amongst those confused thoughts of hers, she just desperately wants to prove herself."

"Prove herself to who?" Severus exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pacing angrily in front of the fireplace. He would explode with impatience and sheer annoyance if he remained sitting still much longer.

Henrietta's quiet response caused him to stop abruptly in his pacing. "Who do you think, my dear?"

He whipped around to face her, expression incredulous. "Me? You think Granger is going to all this bother to do something she knows she cannot hope to achieve, just to impress _me_?" The look on his face clearly said that he was sure the old woman had finally gone senile.

"Severus, I have already asked you if you are completely blind. I do really refuse to accept that two people so intelligent, and yes, dear, don't give me that look – Hermione has not been named the brightest witch of her age for the sake of it – can be so ridiculously ignorant of what is right under their noses."

"And as I said before," Severus said slowly, his words cutting and silky as ever, "I have no idea what you are talking about it."

With a sigh, Henrietta shook her head and got to her feet, summoning her cloak to her. "I'll leave you to think about it, dear. I best be going, but thank you for the tea. I'll show myself out." She gave him a kindly smile and made her way towards the door as Severus stared after her, not really knowing what to think or say.

* * *

At the sound of his front door firmly closing, Severus shook his head in disbelief and dropped back down into his armchair. Letting out a long, steady sigh, he leant forward, elbows on his knees, and steepled his long fingers underneath his chin. He gazed aimlessly ahead, trying to work out what Henrietta had been talking about.

For what was possibly the first time in a very long time, Severus' head was a mess. He hardly knew what to think or feel. He didn't like people barging in and upsetting the balance of the life he led, especially now after the war when all he had wanted was to be left alone. But then she had come in and somehow wormed her way into his life (he for the moment dismissed the fact that it was he who had asked her to assist him with the research, preferring instead to place sole blame for his confusion with her), and now he couldn't shake her from his thoughts no matter how hard he tried.

She was insufferable. She was a Gryffindor, a mere girl, best friend of the boy-who-lived-no-matter-how-many-times-you-tried-to-kill-him. She was ridiculously stubborn, her opinion of herself and her abilities were far too high; she was forever trying to please somebody, always desperate for praise. She was an annoyance, she never left him alone and wanted to know everything that was bothering him all of the time.

Put simply, she was Hermione Granger, and Severus was damned if he was going to find himself falling for her.

But first thing was first, he thought, getting up and summoning his own cloak. He wanted to know what the hell the idiotic woman was doing, thinking she could just meddle with _his_ memory potion.

* * *

_**Ooh, exciting times ahead! :D Thank you very much for reading, and please drop a review in the box on your way out; it would be very much appreciated. :P **_

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_**P.S – Henrietta is forming a secret society of people who want to 'bash Severus and Hermione's heads together'. Who wants to join? :P **_


	44. An Unwelcome Intrusion

_**Oh… Hello again, strangers. :P I'm so sorry this has taken a ridiculous amount of time to get to you! I was planning on getting it started a long time before now, but then things accumulated and I found myself really busy with various stuff to do. :S I still have a long to-do list and should probably not be doing this, but hey ho! Thought I needed a break and could live on the wild side for a few hours. :P Here is the next chapter, anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and thank you all so much for your lovely reviews – can't believe this story has over 100,000 hits now! I don't deserve you all; I really don't, especially considering the weeks I make you wait between updates. **_

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_**Disclaimer – Me? Own Harry Potter? Nope!**_

_**Chapter 44 – An Unwelcome Intrusion**_

* * *

"I'm being serious, Hermione, are you alright?"

The smile faded from Hermione's face as she looked at Harry over the rim of her tea mug and unconsciously bit down on her lower lip. For a moment, she considered the question. She was sat on the couch in the little cottage that Harry and Ginny owned in Godric's Hollow; unfamiliar music drifted about in the background from where the radio had been left on in the kitchen, and James was sat playing by the window with what looked like some kind of junior version of Gobstones.

Hermione let out a long sigh and then lowered her tea to rest on her leg where it was bent and tucked up underneath her, sock clad feet just peeking out. She kept her hands wrapped around the steaming mug, absorbing its warmth; she always felt so cold these days. But then, she didn't at the same time… She supposed it wasn't exactly a feeling of cold so much as a slight numbing feeling.

"I… I'm not really sure…"

Harry swallowed, looking at her, and it took him a while to respond. For a few seconds, he found himself simply trying to get his head around the idea of his Hermione not being sure of something. It was so unlike her, in every way. But then she had been acting so out of character, so distant lately, ever since, really, well… Since she had come back from Africa and stopped assisting Professor Snape with his research. And she still hadn't told him or Ginny what exactly it was that had happened to bring everything to such a sudden end.

"You don't seem sure of much these days," he eventually said, sighing and putting down his own empty mug of tea. He got up from his chair and moved to sit next to her on the sofa, lounging a little against the back of it, his gaze fixed on her intently. "I wish you'd tell me what happened in Johannesburg."

Very quickly, Hermione frowned at him and said, equally as fast: "Nothing happened in Johannesburg."

"Oh come off it, Hermione. I might not be the brightest of Wizards or super intelligent like you are, but I'm not stupid. You were fine before you went off there with Snape looking for platinum or whatever it was you said, and then ever since you've come back, you say you're not going to be helping him anymore, quit your job, hole yourself up in your apartment, speaking to no-one sometimes for days on end, and do Merlin knows what all day. Not to mention, no offence or anything because I know appearance doesn't matter much to you or to me for that matter, but you haven't exactly been looking your best lately."

He paused, swallowing, and then his tone grew a little softer and more serious. "Snape didn't… Y'know… Hurt you, or anything? Did he? Because if he did…" His fist curled up where it rested in his lap.

This caused a small smile to quirk Hermione's lips for a brief second as she held a hand up to appease him. "No, Harry, calm down. He didn't hurt me… As in, like, what you think. Merlin, you and Ron won't ever change, will you? Always jumping to my defence every few minutes at the slightest sign of anyone hurting or insulting me. I'm a big girl now you know; I'm capable of ensuring that no-one bullies me on my own, thanks."

Harry gave her a slightly sheepish smile and scratched his jaw awkwardly. "Sorry. Force of habit." He let out a short chuckle. "What was it people used to say about me? Hero complex?"

She smiled wryly at him. "Something like that." There was a short pause, and then she said, voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "I think… I think I hurt him though."

Looking visibly taken aback, Harry frowned at her, a little incredulous. "Wha… How?"

Hermione bit her lip again, her grip tightening around the mug she still held in her hands as she drowned her gaze in its warm contents. "I…" The words got stuck behind the lump in her throat. Her gaze darted up to meet Harry's for just a second before she dropped it again, feeling her heart thudding in her chest. He was going to go mad. Or think she'd gone mad. Or both. Probably both, knowing him like she did.

"I kissed him."

* * *

So perhaps it hadn't been one of her best ideas. She should have known that going to speak to him like that wouldn't make things any better and if anything could make them worse. She had left and now he was probably angrily pacing his living room, fuming and cursing in more than ten foreign languages.

Letting out a long, weary sigh, Henrietta sank down into her chair in the backroom of her shop and sat back, thinking. She knew better than to rush into things where other Slytherins were involved. Merlin, she had acted like… Well… A little like a Gryffindor, really. Not that there was anything wrong with Gryffindors. She was far too old, far too mature and had experienced and seen far too much to still retain the house prejudices that every Hogwarts student seemed to have during their teenage years at the school. But that didn't change the fact that she could really have gone about it in a different way. Angering Severus wasn't going to help anything, in hindsight.

To be fair on herself, she thought, it wasn't as though that had been her intention. She just wanted to help him realise what he was clearly denying – what Hermione was denying too. But, in the moment she had said some wrong words in the wrong way and, well, probably angered and annoyed him a great deal. Hell, she knew more than most just how much Severus hated people who came in and tried to interfere with his life and tell him what to do.

No, next time she needed to be more subtle, more cunning, a bit more like her younger self, if that was possible at her time of life. Henrietta smiled slightly at the thought and lightly waved her wand in the direction of the teapot, summoning it along with a cup and saucer towards her. Surely, she had few more sly, Slytherin bones left in her frail body yet?

Sitting back with a cup of her favourite earl grey in her hands, Henrietta's eyes were bright and keen against her wrinkled face, and there was an ever so slightly crafty and calculating edge to the smile that hovered on her lips as she began to plan. She wouldn't interfere so much this time, no, wouldn't force them into saying or thinking anything… They could do that for themselves, she knew. All they needed was the tiniest, so subtle that it would almost be invisible, nudge back in the right direction.

No need for bashing heads together, perhaps just a light tap.

* * *

At first, Harry reacted by spluttering a few scrambled, shocked and angry words that Hermione really couldn't understand, although he did manage to stop himself from swearing when he realised his toddler was still in the room, before his expression settled into one of vehement shock. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised. He stumbled for the right words again before finally managing to allow a half-coherent sentence to pass his lips, if it could be called that.

"What…How?...Hermione-…Sn-Snape… _Why_?"

Hermione brought a hand up to hide her face as she sighed, rubbing her fingers across her eyes and not wanting to see the shocked incredulity and no doubt, disgust, in Harry's face. It would only frustrate her even more, receiving confirmation that her…feelings… or whatever it was they were, were ridiculous and unfounded and completely irrational.

"I… I don't know, Harry," she replied, with a rough heaviness to her voice that made her sound years older. "We were having an argument, a pretty bad one really, and… I don't know, I just remember feeling _so_ frustrated and furious because he just _refused_ to show any sign that he was capable of human emotion or that he could understand his own actions towards me and other people and I just sort of… I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was trying to come up with a way to make him show some sort of emotion other than anger and his usual snarkiness and for some reason my brain came up with kissing him and oh God, Harry…" She looked up at him with wide, helpless eyes, her hand moving into her hair to clutch desperately at a bunch of bushy curls. "I think I must have lost my mind."

He was still frowning at her, unable to believe what she was telling him. Eventually, after a long, strangled silence, he asked: "Well… Was it… Did he… Y'know…kiss you back? What was it…like?" It looked as though the words were hard to say, and Hermione could tell he was swallowing incredulous repulsion before every word.

"He… Yeah… I… I don't know, it was kind of…" She gulped, gaze flicking almost fearfully up to meet Harry's. "It wasn't bad… At all… It was kind of, actually, sort of… Y'know… good. Except it was… not… well… It was kind of… Almost violent, I suppose."

Harry's eyes widened even further, which was something Hermione hadn't thought possible by this point. "You… Hermione, sorry. You know what I'm like, not massively clever and all that, not to mention I'm a guy and Ginny would probably get this a lot easier than me, but… Are you telling me that you kissed Snape, and that maybe you _enjoyed _it?"

After a pause, she nodded weakly, and bit her lip as she looked at him helplessly, feeling completely powerless to argue with the strength of the voice that was screaming in the back of her head that yes - _yes_ she had enjoyed it and _yes_ it had felt amazing to kiss him and _yes_ she would gladly do it again if given half the chance. Hermione was well aware that she had passed into dangerous territory a long time ago.

"Yes, I…" She put her face in her hands, leaning towards Harry to bury her face against his shoulder so that she wouldn't have to look at him. "I don't know, Harry," she moaned, feeling him pulling her into a tight hug. "It's all such a mess."

They stayed like that for a while, Harry just holding her as she tried to sort out the mess of thoughts and emotions in her head that had just come out of her mouth. She actually couldn't believe how well he was taking this, but then… Harry had put aside his prejudices and hatred towards their former Potions Professor a long time ago now. It was hard to judge and despise someone who was, when you got down to it, the reason you were still alive. Even if you didn't like that fact very much.

"Oh, Hermione," he said, shaking his head as he rubbed her back soothingly and looking over the top of her head to check that James was still alright. Unsurprisingly, the little boy had barely noticed what was going on and was engrossed in his toys.

"You were never going to fall for some young, handsome chap with a nice family and a good job, were you?"

He heard her laugh against his shoulder a little tearfully and she pulled back a little way to look at him, attempting a slightly shaky smile.

"That would be far too easy," she said, and they laughed together at she hardly knew what.

* * *

Hermione returned home that evening feeling, if not altogether happier, at least a little bit more positive. She had thought that telling Harry (and herself) the truth about what was going on would be hard and would make her feel worse, but as it turned out, she felt so much better for it. It felt good to know that she had someone now to back her up, to hug her and understand everything and tell her that it would be okay. Harry had always been good for that, although she hadn't exactly had many 'boy troubles' whilst they'd been at Hogwarts. Her woes, and his and Ron's, had more often than not been to do with war or something equally serious and unpleasant. It was strange, but almost amusing, she thought, as she inserted her key into the door of her apartment, that they were doing it all the wrong way round. Adult problems like war and death had plagued them in their teenage years, and now, once they were grown up, they found themselves dealing with relatively teenage issues like angst and romance.

Hermione entered her apartment with steps that felt lighter than they had when she left it earlier that day to visit Harry and turned to shut the door and hang up her cloak on the pegs beside it. With a good mind to go to bed early with a decent book, she turned back around, intending to head straight to her bedroom.

But what she saw before her made her freeze in her place. A cold feeling struck her with icy clarity and suddenly her heart felt heavy again as it began to thud and tremble in her chest. Her hands started shaking, her eyes widening. For a brief few seconds, an onslaught of emotions battled for presidency inside her, before she eventually settled on fury. Ice cold, burning hot, all-encompassing and powerful rage filled her from the top of her head to her toes, sparking through her veins.

Her shocked gaze soon turned to a raging, concentrated glare as she looked at the sight of Severus Snape sat on her couch, her notes in his hands, looking right back at her as if he owned the place and had every right to be there.

"You… What… What the hell are you doing here?" Hermione took a furious step towards him, wanting to rip the notes from his hands. "The doors and windows are warded."

He merely looked back at her with a blank expression, though his eyes widened in what looked infuriatingly like amusement when she mentioned the wards. "I will remind you that I helped you to construct the wards on this apartment, Granger, therefore I am more than capable of taking them back down."

He stood up, still holding her notes in one hand and said dryly: "Now, let's get this conversation over and done with, shall we?"

Hermione could do nothing but stare at him, shaking, shocked, and incandescent with rage.

* * *

_**I need to stop with these evil cliff-hangers, don't I? :S I'm sorry! But they feed my darker side that likes to torture people. I really hope this chapter was okay, as I haven't really written much Harry in a long time. Thank you very much for reading, and please do drop me a review on your way out – I'd be very grateful! :D**_

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	45. Round One

_**Well… Goodness gracious me… Um… Sorry? Again. Urgh, I do honestly feel like the worst writer ever, because I always end up leaving such a long time between updates. All I can say is that every time I am sincerely sorry, though I know you're probably all pretty tired of hearing that from me. :S I hope you can forgive me, although I'm sorry to say the gaps between updates isn't going to improve any time soon – will put a proper explanation at the end of the chapter. :) But for now, I will let you get on with reading, because I've kept you waiting long enough! Thank you all for your lovely reviews and support; I really appreciate it. :)**_

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_**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. :)**_

_**Chapter 45 – Round One**_

* * *

She looked…different, somehow. He'd thought Henrietta had just been trying to guilt trip him, making Hermione out to be some kind of regressed hermit, the silly girl, but no… Her face really did look a little thinner, the area under her eyes just that bit greyer, and her curls, which had once seemed to him to have a life of their own, now hung almost limply in the ponytail that pulled them back out away from her face.

But her eyes… He'd never, not in all the time he had known her, ever seen her glare at anyone the way she was glaring at him now. There was a raging, blazing fire in her eyes such as he had never witnessed before, not even back… Not even back in the hotel room in Johannesburg. Although… It wasn't hatred he saw burning in their depths, he didn't think. And that surprised him. No, there was fury there, definitely, rage and frustration and sheer indignant incredulity, but no true contempt… Why? Because she _should_ hate him. She should want to hex and jinx and curse him straight back out the door. He'd treated her abominably, rejected her in the coldest way possible… And she wasn't perfect in all of this either – Merlin knew she'd brought most of it about with her nagging and prying – but where was that infamous Gryffindor impulsiveness? Shouldn't she, like so many of her peers, be quick to feel hatred? Everyone knew it was a Gryffindor trait to feel first and think second – to love and hate in a heartbeat. But maybe that was what set her apart from her peers, Severus thought. She seemed to think and feel in equal measure. The two went hand in hand with her; one didn't preside over the other.

And so once again, Severus found himself admiring Hermione when he was supposed to, by rights, be furious with her.

He stood up, stony in the face of her raging expression, her notes still held in one hand. "Now, let's get this conversation over with, shall we?"

* * *

There was a long silence, in which Severus was sure a dozen different retorts had flashed across her brain, and then she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes still narrowed at him in anger.

"What conversation? I'm afraid I don't really tend to take kindly to the idea of conversing with people who break into my home and then stand in my living room like they own the place."

Severus quirked an eyebrow at this, and then made a show of looking pointedly around him. "As far as I can see, your doors, windows and possession are all intact, are they not, Miss Granger?"

Oh so it was _Miss_ Granger again now was it? Hermione scowled and huffed, admitting grudgingly: "Yes, they're all intact. So?"

"_So_, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, quite proud of himself for maintaining the upper hand so far, "I didn't break in, did I?"

_Bastard. _The word almost slipped out of her mouth but she stopped it just in time. Swearing at him now wasn't going to do any good, and she was fighting to keep her conflicting emotions in check.

Taking a deep breath in and huffing out another sigh, Hermione leant her hip against the back of the sofa, her arms still crossed, still facing him. She braved the use of his first name, and then hated the way it slid so luxuriously off her tongue.

"Severus, whatever it is you so desperately want to talk to me about, can't you just get on with it? I'm tired of point scoring."

And tired she most certainly sounded. The quirked eyebrow rose again, and Severus was briefly caught off guard by the tone of resignation in her voice. The fire in her eyes, too, had softened, seemingly leaving her unable to quite challenge his gaze the way she had been doing, like she couldn't be bothered, somehow, to argue with him over how he had come to be in her apartment. Since when did Hermione Granger ever decide she 'couldn't be bothered' to argue?

But…no matter. He quickly recovered and, as though mirroring her movements, leant back on the wall behind him and crossed his arms elegantly over his chest. Her notes were creased down the middle now where they were trapped in between two long, pale fingers.

"I am here to talk two things over with you, Miss Granger, and I do hope we can talk as adults. And then, I will be out of your hair, so to speak. The first matter I wish to discuss with you is this." He unfolded his arms to hold up the sheaf of notes. "Your latest…" the last word slithered off his tongue, injected with a kind of mocking venom, "_Venture._"

Hermione swallowed. "And the second thing?"

"We'll get to that, Miss Granger."

She frowned at him, but he gave her no time to reply. He stood up away from the wall now, his gaze fixed on her intently, leaving her with no choice but to look straight back at him. When he spoke, the words slid off his tongue, sharp and articulate, his drawl slow and calculated as ever. Hermione was thrown back to her school days, when she had known him as Professor Snape, her scary Potions Master, and not Severus, her… Whatever the hell he was to her now.

"I would attempt to tell you how foolish you are being in thinking you can even come close to achieving what you clearly want to achieve with this, but I know that would just be futile and I'm not a man partial to wasting my time. What I want to know, Miss Granger, is why in Merlin's name you would think it okay to start tampering with _my_ own creation without bothering to ask permission first."

Hermione swallowed, and Severus could almost visibly see her tightening her jaw. "If I had asked permission, you wouldn't have given it to me. So I thought I'd skip out the middle man, so to speak."

He raised an eyebrow again, unimpressed. Taking a step towards her, he held up the notes again and then, regarding them as though they were something disgusting to him, let them fall to the floor in a slow flutter. She didn't move to pick them back up, frozen under the weight of his glare – dark and unforgiving.

"Your insolence, Miss Granger, is astonishing. I used to occasionally wonder why it was you hadn't been placed in Ravenclaw, but I think I understand now. You were placed in Gryffindor because you are too foolhardy, too arrogant and headstrong to ever fit in with Ravenclaws. Merlin, you had trouble fitting in with your fellow Gryffindors, I dread to think – "

Feeling the familiar anger bubble up inside her again, Hermione snapped her head upwards to see him better. Her eyes flashed with fury. "Shut up," she snapped, through gritted teeth and a set jaw.

"This isn't about houses or Hogwarts or anything to do with the past, _Severus_." Spitting out his name, she too took an almost predatory step towards him. Each glare was piercing the other. "So for once, put your petty prejudices aside and say what you actually _want_ to say. For fuck's sake, do the decent thing and converse like a human being! Say what you _mean_ and stop trying to bully me. I'm not your student anymore, Severus."

Her chin jutted out defiantly as she looked up at him, her body drawing itself up so that she was almost as tall as him. Severus looked down at her, inwardly sneering bitterly. Outwardly, his expression was blank and obsidian eyes hard. Not his student anymore, indeed… No, she wasn't his student anymore. Students didn't talk to him like this; students didn't dare argue with him; students didn't torture him for months on end with their smiles and cleverness, spirit and gentle kindness.

No student had the power to enrage him the way she could. No student could make him feel this loud mix of frustration, admiration, rage, desire and (oddly) affection all at the same time. He wanted to hate her in that moment, more than he had ever wanted to hate anyone, but he couldn't. And so his irritation only increased.

"That doesn't mean you can do as you please with my potions, Granger," he said coldly. "You have no right to be attempting anything with the _Recro Memoria_ potion. I don't remember ever telling you that you could take some from my personal stores, either. How did you get hold of some? I am assuming, of course, that you have some of the potion to base your experiments on, or you're even more of a fool than I first thought."

Her head shook almost imperceptibly at him, her breaths short and angry. So it was back to just Granger again now? She wished he would make up his mind on where they stood. He couldn't just waltz in here and start to have it out with her about what work she was doing, and the elephant in the room was growing larger in size. She had a feeling she knew what the second thing he wanted to discuss was, and she hoped they never got chance to move onto it.

"Of course I have a sample." She put her head on one side, looking away for a split second, before meeting his hard gaze again. "It's not really an influence I like to use often, but… Let's just say that the name Hermione Granger tends to help when strings need pulling."

Severus right eyebrow rose sharply of its own accord. "Are you telling me you managed to source some from the Ministry labs when the potion was going through trials? Or do you have some sort of contact at St. Mungo's?"

A short, bitter laugh came from Hermione's mouth and she shook her head visibly now. "Not a chance. I'm not telling you how I got my hands on some of your potion, Severus. I'm not a snitch, and I don't want people I quite like having to answer to you. I have some of the potion, and that's all you need to know. This is none of your business."

Even as she said the words, Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach that panged familiarly of guilt. Because it was his business. It was his business in every way possible. It was _his_ potion.

Severus wasted no time in telling her so.

"I think you'll find it is my business, Granger, when you are tampering foolishly with a potion that has nothing whatsoever to do with you." He stalked towards her now, so that they were stood even closer, his tall, lean frame towering over her, his black eyes glittering with intensity. "I will take whatever sample you have, your notes, and any experiments you've done so far. And you'll not even think of this silly idea ever again. Do we have a deal?"

"No." She glared up at him, feeling her hands balling into fists at her sides. He was close. Too close. If she moved just a little bit more forward she would be touching his chest, his face would be inches from hers, his lips… She slammed back her thoughts with a vicious scowl. Not now. "I'm not a little girl, Severus. I don't take orders."

* * *

It happened quicker than either could process it.

His strong hands were all of a sudden on her shoulders, pushing her back against the sofa. He pinned her there so that she couldn't move, his glare cutting into hers, face pushed up so that he could see the irrational fear flicker across her eyes at the movement, before it died and was replaced with fury. Something pulsed through his veins – shot his heart through with adrenaline, fuelled by the warmth of her body under his. When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet, velvet soft and dangerous.

"I don't need you to tell me that you're not a little girl anymore, Hermione. I can see that for myself."

She didn't try to struggle, only glared back up at him and hoped he couldn't hear the hammering of her heart against her ribcage, the racing of her pulse. But it wasn't fear spurring her heart on, heating the blood beneath her skin. It was excitement, adrenaline, a strange kind of thrill that ran down her spine and back up again like fire. She welcomed it – the feeling of being alive that had been so overpowering when they had… When they had kissed.

"You will stop this ridiculousness about doing your own research," Severus told her darkly, his voice still almost silent as death. His tone was low, his cool breath on her face, and it sent sensations shivering through her whole body that she didn't even know how to describe. A dark electricity seemed to buzz between them, and Severus' stony expression completely hid the fact that he was just as much affected by it as she was.

"And wh-"

He cut her off before she could even get the words out. "This conversation is over. You will not do further research on the _Recro Memoria _potion. That's the end of it."

And then, just as quickly as he had grabbed her and pushed her back against the sofa, he let go. In one swift movement he stood away, his back to her. She was left standing by the sofa, gripping the back of it, unsure as to whether her own legs had the strength to hold her upright for the moment, and strangely mourning his close proximity. Cool air swirled in between them, but Hermione's heart pounded harder than ever.

A split second of silence passed, but not long enough to let the dust settle or for either of them to catch their breath, before Severus turned back on his heel to face her. Hermione faintly and half subconsciously thought that a gong should be sounding round about now. Time for round two, wasn't it?

"There was a second matter I wished to discuss with you, Miss Granger," he said coolly, and Hermione marvelled at the way he constantly had the ability to move from one minute to the next and act like nothing had ever happened.

She was so shocked at this sudden turn of events that her brain barely registered her previous fears about the elephant in the room as she asked, a little breathlessly: "And what's that then?"

His gaze met hers levelly and his expression was once again made of marble – it appeared to take nothing in, and gave nothing away. And then he spoke, and Hermione's heart began pounding in her chest so hard she felt sure she might die.

"I want to know why you kissed me."

* * *

_**Yes, yes, I know… Another one! And after I was so determined to not serve you with a cliffhanger this chapter, too… I'm sorry, I tried! But this one was too delicious to not serve up. Gods, you all hate me now, don't you? Um… would it be terribly rude of me to still ask you to please review with your thoughts on this chapter? :)**_

_**X :D**_

_**P.S – Right, like Severus, weirdly enough, I have two things I need to tell you all about… The first one, is that I've started studying/revision now for my final GCSE exams in the summer, so I'm pretty busy with work and so on that I just know I'm not going to be able to find as much time to write fanfiction as I would like. Don't worry; I'm not going on a hiatus or anything like that! I'm just telling you so that you know and can hopefully forgive me the delays between updates. I will try to write whenever I can, I just want you to know what's going on and to let you know not to worry if chapters take a while to come. :)**_

_**Secondly, just a quick thing – I'm going to be changing my penname soon! I'm sort of growing out of this one, I think, so I'll be changing it in a bit to 'Eleantris' which is a kind of play on my real name that a friend came up with. So yeah, that's just to let you know that that'll be me in a little while. :)**_

_**Thank you for reading and again, my sincerest apologies! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **_

_**X :D**_


	46. Round Two

_**Salut, mes chers lecteurs, comment ca va? So as you can probably guess, I've taken time out from my French revision to write this. My exams start in about a week, so yeah, things are getting a little hectic now, but I was missing this story and all of you – not to mention I just needed a break. :) I just want to quickly thank those of you who reviewed last chapter, and especially those of you who were really understanding about my revision and stuff, and who wished me luck. I really appreciate the support, so thank you – you get free chocolate frogs on me. :D Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! And it's refreshingly cliff-hanger free. :P **_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter is not mine, and nor will it ever be. Although I am going on the studio tour at the end of June! :D **_

_**Chapter 46 – Round Two**_

* * *

The words didn't hang, but sliced through the air – sharp and sudden and shocking. Hermione stared at him, looking as though she had just slammed face first into an invisible brick wall. Her eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her lungs were yearning for new oxygen, but she didn't quite feel capable of inhaling just yet. The breath was caught in her throat and her muscles had frozen up, making breathing impossible. If ever there was a moment that Hermione truly wanted the ground to swallow her up, it was this one. Anything could happen, anything at all. So long as she didn't have to answer his question.

What made it worse was that he didn't even look like he was enjoying this. There was no smirk on his lips, no dark glitter in his eyes. He looked deadly serious. At least if there was some indication of torture in his face this would be easier – she could be angry at him, avoid the question, shout at him instead. But no. This was the face of a man who wanted an answer, and who wasn't going to walk away without one.

_I want to know why you kissed me._

Hermione couldn't help it. It wasn't a habit she indulged often, but just this once, she said the first thing that came to her lips.

"What?"

Severus spoke slowly and clearly, measuring his words the way someone speaking to a small child might do when explaining something they don't understand. "It's a simple enough request, Miss Granger, and I refuse to believe that your hearing has become severely impaired within the past few minutes. I want to know why you kissed me."

"Stop doing that," she snapped, passing a hand tersely across her forehead, turning slightly so that she could avoid his gaze, avoid looking at him.

"Stop doing what?"

"Swapping and changing. One minute it's 'Miss Granger', then it's 'Granger', then out of the blue it's 'Hermione', and then you're back to 'Miss Granger' again. It's annoying."

There was a moment of silence, in which Severus did nothing but raise an eyebrow in slight incredulity. And then he said, very simply, and almost gently, "Stop avoiding the question…Hermione."

His tone caught her by surprise. He sounded almost…patient? That wasn't quite the right word, but it was close enough. Her head was spinning; nothing was making sense. He couldn't just ask her that out of the blue, he couldn't just… She sighed and pushed her hands into her hair, wishing it wasn't up in a ponytail so that it could hide her face. She felt vulnerable, exposed.

Inside, she felt ice cold, and she was sure her body was shaking but when she looked down at herself she was steady. Her stomach was churning and for a fleeting moment she thought about apparating away, before she dismissed the idea as quickly as it had crossed her mind, almost angry at herself for thinking it. She wasn't a coward – far from it. She had helped defeat Lord Voldemort, for God's sakes, she wasn't going to run away from a conversation with Severus Snape.

* * *

She heard, rather than saw, him take a step towards her. He spoke again, in that voice that was remarkably patient and calm.

"Hermione?"

Merlin how she loved and hated the way her name sounded on his tongue. She bit her lip, exhaled.

"I don't know, Severus," she said, still snappy. She still couldn't look him in the eye, either, or even at him at all. She was stood looking down at the floor, one hand at her forehead as though trying to shield her face from view. "I… I did it to shut you up, to make a point, to – I don't know. I was trying to-to…" Her voice faded away as the words vanished and slipped away from her with a sigh.

"You were trying to what?"

"I don't know!" Hermione wheeled round to face him again now, lips pulled into a tight line to stop them from trembling. She felt the irrational need to cry building up inside her and repressed it. If there was one thing in the world she didn't want to do, it was cry in front of him. She had done that once, and that was what had got them here in the first place. That and kissing him like…

"I was trying to prove a…" She sighed, shaking her head again. There were lines making creases in her forehead and she felt almost outside herself, like she couldn't quite believe they were actually having this conversation. "You can't just ask me this out of the blue," she said, trying but failing to stare him down. She averted her gaze again after just a few seconds.

"You were trying to prove a point?" Severus asked, staring blankly at her. He cocked his head on one side, eyes narrowed a little, as though trying to figure her out. "And what point was that?"

By this time, Hermione felt herself on the verge of tears, and she wasn't even sure she knew why. She just knew she had to push them back, had to swallow over the iron lump in her throat that was making it hard to breathe steadily. Her hands were visibly shaking, and she brought them up to bury her face in them, wiping her face as though trying to dispel the stress there.

"I don't know… We were arguing, and I just felt so… _angry_, Severus." She looked up at him, and suddenly found that she could hold his gaze again. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"You were being so frustrating, you apologised but you wouldn't even e_xplain_ why you had started acting like you hated me again in the first place! You'd treated me like shit for days and then all of a sudden you were apologising and expecting me to forget about it, I didn't know – I s_till_ don't ever know what to make of you. You don't explain anything, or let anyone in… I had thought that… That you were opening up, just a little bit… We were working together and I don't know, it was kind of good, I enjoyed it… But you wouldn't believe me when I said that. It was like you had just crawled back into this cage again where you were nothing but snarky and surly with me and I had no idea what I'd done wrong to make you act that way again! I wanted to work with you, Severus, I wanted _it_ to work. And it frustrated me that you found that so hard to believe."

There was a long silence as Severus took all of her words in, stunned and wordless as he processed the sudden outpouring of thought. She was looking at him with a hint of desperation in her eyes – exasperation, too. A feeling was starting to dawn on him; a feeling that said he somehow was starting to understand what it was that had passed between them in the hotel room in Johannesburg, what she had been feeling.

Frowning, he asked: "And so, by kissing me, you were… What? Making a point? Trying to gain the upper hand?"

His eyebrows were raised expectantly, waiting for an answer. He tried not to think about the fact that the idea that maybe she just kissed him to get one over on him, to end their argument… that idea hurt him, somehow. He wasn't sure why, wasn't sure he liked that fact either.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, hands gesturing now. "Yes! I – No, I… I don't know." She slumped again, arms falling to her sides. Her frustration was evident in both her face and her tone of voice. She took a deep breath and thought for a moment, closing her eyes. Her stomach was churning more than ever and she felt like she might pass out, the emotional turmoil going around and around her head like a whirlwind she couldn't control.

"I wasn't thinking straight, but… I suppose I was _trying_ to make you feel something other than what you seemed to have convinced yourself you were only capable of feeling – all that bitterness and anger and damn _snarkiness_. I was desperate, and tired, and angry and… I don't know, in my exasperated head I thought… I thought that kissing you was the best way to do that."

Even to her own ears, she sounded like an idiot. Sighing and bringing a weary hand up to her face, Hermione turned away from him again, so that she didn't have to see his reaction. He had been remarkably calm for the past ten minutes, and she was just waiting for him to start shouting. She felt exhausted – like she could happily fall asleep right there and then and never wake up.

Severus stared at her – or rather, at the back of her head, bent at the neck as though trying to shelter from the world – from him. He frowned. She had been trying to… to make him _feel_ something? To prove that maybe he didn't have to spend his life living in hatred and anger?

Sweet Merlin, he thought. If only she knew just how much she had made him feel, not just by kissing him, but… everything.

And he had to give her credit. She hadn't run away, like he had half expected her to. She had stayed, had faced his question with courage.

But then, what else did he expect of her, really? She would never risk being called a coward, not ever.

* * *

She heard his footsteps come about two steps closer, but didn't turn around. Pausing, Severus wondered if he should move closer, and then decided against it and stayed where he was. His expression was made of stone, blank as ever. He didn't know how to deal with this, didn't know if he _could_ deal with this. But then, he had asked for it, hadn't he? He had been a bastard towards her and then…

He wasn't used to being particularly _nice_.

"Hermione, I…" He sighed – told himself that he could do this. Hell, if he couldn't be nice to her, especially now, then he never would be able to be any semblance of 'nice' to anyone. He tried again.

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

The sentence felt rusty and strange on his tongue, but once it was out, he couldn't take it back in. His voice was low, sincere and serious. She still didn't turn around.

"For what?" He saw her shrug. "You kissed me back, but I still kissed you. It's my fault, I shouldn't have done it because now…"

"I'm sorry for not explaining," he said, wishing she would just turn around and look him in the eye. Or maybe not. Maybe that would make it harder. He purposely avoided any mention of him kissing her back. He wasn't ready to discuss that, and didn't think she was either. Whatever 'discuss that' meant.

He didn't have time to work it out anyway because at that, she turned around – slowly, almost hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure what she would see once she had. When she was facing him, she looked up, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes uncertain.

"Um…"

"For not explaining why I treated you in the way I did." Severus felt awkward; he wasn't used to apologies, and he was even less used to explaining his actions. But there was something in her face, in her eyes, that encouraged him. He needed to do this, otherwise… Otherwise he really was going to lose her. And he only realised now that that wasn't something he wanted to happen. For once in his life, Severus had something he wanted to hold onto; somehow, even though he wasn't sure he'd ever exactly had hold of it in the first place. And that idea scared the hell out of him, but there it was.

"Are you going to explain now?" Hermione asked, still chewing on her bottom lip and feeling utterly stunned and exhausted. He was apologising to her. And he looked so… Not guilty, but remorseful? She was too tired to think of the right word, too emotionally drained.

There was a pause, and some of the blankness returned to Severus' expression, as though the wall was coming back up again. After a moment, he shook his head. Apologising was one thing, but telling her that… That… Hell he couldn't even think it, let alone say it.

"No."

She instantly frowned at him, mouth opening in protest.

"Not yet," he said quickly, voice serious.

"Not yet?"

He nodded once, quite stiffly. "Not yet." He paused, deliberating. He wasn't sure if this next move was a good idea or not.

Severus had two options open to him. He could tell her that this was enough, that that was all he wanted to know and that he was happy now to leave it. They could each carry on with their lives, forget all about the research they had been working on, and that would be that. A year ago – hell, just a few months ago – there wouldn't have been a choice. He would have walked away without a backward glance. But something inside him said that the second option – to let her back into his life again, to try and go back to being research partners once more, would be so much better.

He was frightened, and unsure, and he didn't like it.

But he liked the first option even less.

He took a breath and looked at her – saw that she was frowning slightly at him, trying to work out what exactly was going on in his head.

"I still need an assistant," he said eventually, his tone almost business-like. Hermione sensed that the emotional part of the conversation was over and almost breathed an audible sigh of relief. She still felt exhausted, and completely drained, but for some reason there was a feeling of happiness settling over her and her stomach had stopped churning.

He had apologised. Severus Snape had apologised. And no he still hadn't explained the reasons for his behaviour, but… Maybe, maybe he would, in time. All she had to do was start helping him again, working with him.

"I'll… I'll be on your doorstep at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow?" She said, phrasing it almost like a question, but she couldn't help the faint hint of a smile that briefly graced her lips.

Severus nodded, and smirked. It wasn't a cruel smirk though, or a sneer. It was…satisfied. "Don't be late. We have a lot of work to do."

"I won't be," she promised. "I'll…see you tomorrow then."

He nodded curtly again, and then left. For a few moments after he was gone, Hermione stayed standing where she was, stunned beyond all comprehension. She wanted to lie down and run over their entire conversation again in her head in order to properly work out what had just happened, but she was too tired. Right now, what she needed was sleep. And then in the morning, a shower and a proper breakfast.

She had work to do.

* * *

_**Whew… I can't tell you how emotionally drained *I* feel now. I've literally just written this all in one go, which I didn't sit down expecting to do, so there you have it. I really hope this is okay and all in character – I always try my best, but there does have to be some sort of progression and character growth in order for them to eventually come together. I really hope it comes off as that and not just as OOC-ness, but please do let me know either way. Thank you for reading, and be honest in your reviews! **_

_**X :D**_


	47. Conversation and Coffee

_**So I only realised when I looked at the published date for this today that I've been writing this story for nearly two years now. That's crazy. :P And yes okay, maybe my super-slow updates, especially during exam time, have something to do with that…but wow! I can't believe so many of you are still here. Thank you so much. :) Well the good news is that I only have four exams left now (my last one is on the 18**__**th**__** June! :D), so hopefully summer-slash-'the writing season' shall be upon us soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. I think we've established that after nearly two years, huh? :P**_

_**Chapter 47 – Conversation and Coffee**_

* * *

Hermione couldn't help it, couldn't help the way her hands were fiddling with her scarf as she heard his footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. She couldn't help the way her heart had suddenly decided to enter a race with her pulse rate, and she couldn't help her wandering, worrying thoughts. She needed to relax; she knew that. She'd told herself it a million times since she had woken up that morning, but it wasn't helping. She'd tried deep breaths, calming thoughts – hell, even occlumency for a few minutes to free her mind of all anxieties. But she couldn't help it. She was nervous – her, Hermione Granger, _nervous_. And what was worse was that she wasn't even sure what she was nervous about. She had been working with him for months, had been in his laboratory dozens of times. Nothing was going to happen; everything was going to be fine. It would all go back to the way it was before, as though nothing had changed.

But that was exactly why she was so anxious.

She wanted this to work.

The truth was, Hermione wasn't sure what she would do if this didn't work out, if they couldn't just go back to working and researching together the way they had been before Johannesburg. This strange affinity she felt with her former Potions master, her research assistant, _Severus_, she had to push it aside. She had to. She had to stop overthinking everything, needed to just focus on the research and carry out their experiments properly. That was all she needed to do. Because if she didn't focus, if she didn't stop thinking about the strange way her stomach fluttered every time he stood too close, or the flush that would creep up her neck, staining her skin, every time she remembered his strong arms wrapped around her, her chest again his, then she was going to end up doing something very, very stupid indeed.

Like kissing him in the middle of an argument again.

And that… _That_ most definitely could not happen. Not again. Not ever.

"Good morning."

Hermione jumped, startled as the door suddenly opened to reveal the man in question. She quickly shook all previous thoughts from her head and rearranged her expression into a slight smile as she looked up at him. "Morning, Severus."

He stepped back to let her inside, closing the door as she removed her coat and scarf before finally turning back to face him. There was a notebook in her hand and for a brief moment, Severus just looked at her.

She looked… Well, if he was being honest with himself he would have to say that she looked the furthest thing from the woman he had spoken with just yesterday. Her hair looked clean and tidy again (or as tidy as it could be, in any case), her skin refreshed, the grey circles under her eyes much less visible. There just seemed to be a renewed aura of brightness about her that astonished him, a kind of cautious hope and happiness shining faintly in her eyes as she smiled a little at him.

"Well, err…" Hermione broke the moment of silence, well aware of his gaze boring into her. She was starting to feel the beginnings of self-consciousness creep up her back and dreaded that she might start blushing again. "Shall we get started?"

_Focus, Hermione. Focus. _

"Of course." He nodded, opening the door that led down to the basement laboratory for her to go through, and Hermione could have sworn she caught the slightest upward curve of his lips as he did so.

She ducked under his arm with a slight smile, swallowing almost audibly as the familiar scent of herbs, dark wood and something else so essentially _him_ that it couldn't be identified washed over her. It infiltrated her sinuses and triggered memories that slammed subtly into her – of his lips against hers and his hands at her waist and… No. She pushed them all back.

* * *

"I, uh, I made some more notes," Hermione said as she heard Severus coming down the steps behind her, the candles on the stone walls of the laboratory flaring into life at a wave of his wand, flickering brightly. She handed him the notebook. "They're in there… Nothing particularly new, but just some theories on how we can combine the platinum with the gold and silver to stabilise them. I'm sure you've probably come up with them all already, and more besides, but…I thought they were worth noting down."

"No, actually," Severus replied without looking up as he studied her scribbled ideas in the notebook. "I've been…busy with a few other things."

He didn't look up, so he didn't catch the expression of surprise on Hermione's face as she looked around and realised that all their previous notes and ingredients were in the exact same place as she had seen them last.

"Oh… I see."

Severus merely murmured distractedly in reply and moved to stand by the main workbench, where a cauldron and the platinum were already laid out ready. His eyes were trained seriously on a page of Hermione's notebook, and the thoughtful, absorbed expression on his face was too familiar for her not to recognise.

"What is it?" she asked, moving closer to try and see which one of her ideas it was he was looking at. "Oh, that. I thought of that this morning. It's a little high school chemistry and outside of the box, but… it made sense when it came to me, which was when I'd just got out of the shower so if it's ridiculous just ignore it. I wasn't completely awake."

Severus stiffened when she came to stand close beside him, and then relaxed again, trying hard to ignore the idea of 'Hermione' and 'shower' in the same sentence as he focused again on what he was reading.

"No," he said, his voice slow and thoughtful as he glanced up from the book at her, "It's a good idea."

This time, there was no chance of him missing the shock that appeared immediately on her face, as though his unmasked compliment had flicked a switch, flooding her face with stunned surprise. Hermione honestly wasn't sure if she had ever heard Severus Snape compliment her before – certainly not in the plain, unveiled way he just had, anyway.

Severus sighed and snapped the notebook shut, turning away from her to put it down. "Must you always look at me as though I've just revealed that I own a Labrador puppy called Rover and groom it three times a day every time I say something remotely complimentary?"

A laugh had passed Hermione's lips before she could hold it back. "Sorry."

"I mean it," Severus drawled, but no-one could miss the dark sparkle of amusement in his eyes as he turned back to her, "You act as though I really do have a heart of stone. I am capable of being _nice_, you know. I simply don't have occasion to come across many people who are deserving of that niceness."

She smirked. "Spent too much time around dunderheads?"

He smirked right back at her and said wryly: "Something like that."

* * *

And that was it. Just like that, they went back to the way that had been before. Working mostly in companionable silence, but sometimes exchanging conversations masked in sarcasm, interspersed with the occasional smirk and chuckle as they carried out their experiments with careful concentration. As the morning went on and they developed the idea she had come up with that morning, Hermione began to relax properly. She wondered why she had ever been anxious in the first place. She could do this; she could act like nothing had ever happened, go back to acting in the same way she had before they had both somehow managed to ruin everything between them.

It would work. Everything would be okay.

Just as their second experiment with trying to create a catalyst out of the platinum was drawing to a close, Severus paused, standing back to roll his dark shirt sleeves up and survey their progress. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on Hermione; her back was to him as she leant over the workbench, her unruly curls held up in a haphazard bun as she noted down what was taking place in the cauldron beside her. His eyes followed the gentle curve of her neck hungrily, the line of her arm as she wrote and the stray wave of hair that was falling to brush her jawline before he snapped his gaze away, inwardly chastising himself.

He waited for her to finish writing and then, glancing at the cauldron that would need to simmer away for another half an hour now, he asked: "Would you like a drink of anything?"

She looked surprised again as she turned to him, but he let it go this time. He was determined to prove to her that he wasn't what she thought he was: he didn't need to be surly and sombre all the time, he was better than that. At least, he wanted to be better than that… With her, anyway. And making sure that she was properly nourished whilst working with him seemed a good place to start.

"Oh, um… Actually, that would be great." She smiled at him, rolling her own sleeves up and then tucking the stray hair at her jaw back up into the bun at the back of her head. "Do you have any coffee?"

"Of course," Severus drawled, smirking as though she'd asked whether or not he liked to breathe oxygen.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione shook her head at him and put down her pen. "Well then coffee would be lovely, thank you."

* * *

"So," Severus said crisply, sitting back in his usual armchair as he took a sip of coffee and looked at Hermione over the rim of his cup. Charms had been placed on the cauldron downstairs to ensure he would be alerted if its contents started to do anything but simmer, and now he found himself doing something he'd never imagined he'd ever be doing in his wildest dreams: sitting in his living room, having coffee with Hermione Granger. Dumbledore (and Voldemort, for that matter) would be turning in his grave.

"So…what?" she asked, looking across at him from her seat on the couch; the coffee table, covered in books, sat between them.

"You quit your job," he remarked dryly, raising one eyebrow at her. "And whilst I'm going to deny the fact that I think journalism is a ridiculous profession for someone as academically intelligent as you to go into, I would like to know why. You were very defensive when I insulted your position back in January."

"Oh, um…" Hermione suddenly found herself absorbed in the task of trying to stare down through the coffee to the bottom of the cup in her hands, taken aback by both the straightforwardness of his question, and the fact that for the second time that day, he had complimented her without even bothering to veil it as a passing remark.

"Well, you know… It was never meant to be a permanent career or anything." She glanced up to see him watching her, listening closely but showing no sign of interrupting. Her gaze dropped again as the old feelings of self-consciousness began to creep up her back once more. "I just… I enjoyed it. It was interesting work, and I did really like reporting on things and bringing articles together, but…"

"But?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly…anything spectacular, was it?" She took another sip of coffee, meeting his gaze now. "I just decided that whilst I liked what I was doing, I wanted to do _more_… I want to be remembered, you know? Do something important. I want to do something significant with my life that benefits other people; I want to be remembered for a valid reason and-" She cut her speech off abruptly when she realised that he was laughing. At her.

Severus Snape was laughing at her.

Hermione frowned at him instantly. "What? Hey, stop laughing at me. What's so funny?"

The deep, rich chuckle finally faded away, leaving Severus to look across at her with that same sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes again. "You should hear yourself," he told her.

"What, why? Because I said I wanted to do something important, something significant with my life? What's so funny about that?"

She looked affronted, but Severus ignored that. "Good God, woman, you were instrumental in helping to defeat one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time! Trust me; it isn't likely you'll ever be forgotten. How much more important do you want to be?"

Hermione immediately flushed red, looking down and stammering into her coffee cup. "N-no, I mean… Well, you know… I…" She sighed and looked back up again.

"That wasn't really me; I honestly didn't do that much. It was mostly Harry, and the Order, and _you_. I was just… there, really, being a know-it-all and then shouting a bunch of spells and waving my wand around. I wasn't…" She bit her lip and met his gaze. "I'm not a hero or anything, like they say. Not like you."

There was silence for a few moments - a deafening, absolute silence, filled with unspoken thoughts. And then, Severus leant forward to place his now empty coffee cup on the table in front of them, his gaze not leaving Hermione's face for a single second. They were connected, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Do you want to know what I think, Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, and was annoyed when her voice came out much quieter than usual.

He straightened up in his seat again, but his intense gaze still held hers captive. "I think that being a 'hero' is overrated," he told her dryly, steepling his long fingers under his chin. As he went on, his voice took on the serious, silky quality that Hermione recognised as his 'teacher voice', the one that had entranced and frightened them all as eleven year olds.

"Heroes are very rarely what you expect them to be and true heroes are very rarely acknowledged. But I don't think you realise… Being a know-it-all and shouting a bunch of spells and waving your wand around is what fighting a war is like. There's no other way to do it. There's no clever formula or strategy. When it comes down to it, all you can do is point your wand in what you hope is the right direction and say what you hope is the right spell, and if you're talented enough and brave enough and lucky enough, you might just live to tell the tale."

A small, faint smile slowly graced Hermione's lips as he spoke and she looked at him, feeling warmth and chills at the same time. "Harry said something like that once," she said softly, "Not in so many words and maybe not as eloquently, but it was similar."

"Yes, well, maybe Potter can be credited with that at least," Severus remarked. "He isn't completely stupid and he knows what reality is when he stares it in the face."

She smiled properly now, her eyes brightened. "Oh dear lord, perhaps I should go back to the _Phoenix_ for a few days. They're going to want this on the front page: Severus Snape compliments Harry Potter."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Severus growled with a smirk, "I merely agreed with him on one thing. And that is that however you may think of the war, you _did _make a difference, even if you did just feel like you were stumbling through at the time."

"Is that how you felt?" Hermione asked quietly, still with a gentle smile on her face. "Like you were just stumbling through?" She found the idea hard to comprehend, somehow.

"Not exactly…" He spoke as if he were choosing his words very carefully. "I was…existing, serving a cause." For a moment his eyes darkened and he glanced down, his expression growing serious again. "If you want to know the truth, Hermione, most of the time I didn't consciously care whether we won or lost. I just needed it to be over, I wanted to… I _wanted_ to die."

A sad look slowly suffused Hermione's eyes at that, her front teeth sinking down into her lower lip slowly. "And now?" she asked, her voice still quiet.

"Now?" Severus looked up and met her gaze. "Now… I suppose I'm glad, in a way. I was prepared to die, believe me… I welcomed it. But the Healers that saved me, and whoever sent them to me… Now, I'm grateful. Even if I wasn't at the time."

Hermione smiled. "Well I'm glad too," she told him, her gaze dropping back down to her coffee again in a rare moment of shyness. "That you survived," she added.

There was a silent pause, and then Severus stood. "That concoction of yours will have finished simmering now."

Standing too, Hermione laughed, dissipating the sombre atmosphere. She left her coffee cup on the table next to his. "Oh, that concoction of mine? So I suppose if it hasn't worked out that'll be entirely my fault then?"

"Naturally," he drawled, his lips curling up into a smirk as he glanced at her sideways.

Shaking her head to herself, Hermione smiled and followed him down the steps into the laboratory.

It was working. Everything was fine.

* * *

_**Well I had a lot of problems with parts of this chapter, it just didn't seem to want to behave, but I hope it's okay. Either way, I'd really appreciate honesty as always. Please review! :)**_

_**X :D**_


	48. A Bookshop, an Apothecary and a Weasley

_**Heh, so I call this a reasonably speedy update considering. :P Thank you all very much as always for your reviews; they really do mean a lot to me, and brightened my revision filled days! Luckily, today was my last exam, so it is officially party time! And by party time I mean writing time, because I don't party… Unless you count me raving to music as I get up and ready in a morning? :P Anyway, I should shut up now (sorry I'm just in an especially good mood because 'Dobby is…freeeeee!') :D Enjoy the chapter! :D**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, and never will. :)**_

_**Chapter 48 – A Bookshop, an Apothecary and a Weasley**_

* * *

"Keep your coat on. We're going out."

Hermione blinked in surprise, stumbling slightly as she stepped back from the front door to let Severus come through it. "What? Where are we going?"

Stepping out the door and closing it, Severus paused for a moment to put up his wards with a subtle flick of his wand before turning to answer her. "Diagon Alley," he said, and gestured for them to start walking. "And then you are going to visit Ms Hartington's to pick up some books I owled her about last night, whilst I go into the apothecary to restock our supplies and buy in a few other things I think we might be needing. Assuming, that is, you have no objections?" He inclined his head briefly towards her, somewhere in the back of his mind realising that he'd slipped into his old practice of ordering and not asking again. Some habits were hard to break.

But Hermione just smiled at him, bringing a hand up to pull her hair back from where the breeze was blowing it into her face. "No, that's absolutely fine."

Her smile faded slightly as they continued walking, but didn't completely disappear. She wasn't sure why it still stubbornly lingered on her lips, a pleasant ghost, but she hadn't missed the '_our_ supplies' that had slipped from his mouth with a surprising amount of natural ease, or the way in which he had checked with her that she was okay with what he had told her to do when he realised he was giving orders. He didn't need to do that, she thought. She understood that that was just the way he was; he was used to telling people what to do, used to being in charge. That was just part of who he was, and she accepted that. She didn't mind it at all really; it wasn't like he ever told her to do anything that she really didn't want to do.

The smile twitched a little bit wider as Hermione thought this, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to try and contain it. It had been a few weeks now since they had started working together again, and it surprised her how easily they had fallen back into such a natural routine. She had forgotten how easy it was, really, to work with him. She'd missed it. Missed him. Not that she would admit it out loud, of course.

But… He seemed to be making _such_ an effort, and she honestly wasn't really sure why. She knew what he was like and accepted him for it anyway; she understood his need to stay in control of a situation, and she didn't expect him to change for her, just to stop from angering or upsetting her. That wasn't what she wanted. Yet, he almost seemed to be trying to do it anyway.

Not that the changes were big or especially noticeable in any way. He hadn't started greeting her with a cheery smile and a hug every morning, nor had he ceased to be his usual smirking, sarcastic and occasionally intimidating self. Nothing fundamental had changed, and she most certainly didn't want it to. But… there were little things. Like just now, for instance, when he had asked if she had any objections to what he had told her to do. Hermione found that there were just the brief, odd occasional moments in which that would happen – where he would be subtly and unexpectedly courteous, just out of the blue. He would offer her coffee; ask every now and then how her weekend had been, would even occasionally take her coat from her when she arrived in the morning.

Hermione lived for the days when he was in a good, serene enough mood to do that, when he wasn't impatient to get started because he had an idea bubbling away in his head, or tense and annoyed because he'd received another nagging letter from Professor McGonagall asking him to come to yet another 'sodding reunion'. It was barely a touch, but the way his fingertips would lightly brush her shoulder accidentally as he took her coat would be enough to send a thrilling shiver down her spine, the sound of his low, silky voice murmuring behind her about what he had planned for their research that day and had she found anything in the book borrowed from Henrietta's that might help them?

* * *

"Right, well I suggest we meet back here in an hour," Severus said as they reached Diagon Alley, pausing outside Slug and Jiggers apothecary.

"You're going in there?" Hermione asked, peering past him a little dubiously to where the apothecary stood, practically bustling with customers who, she presumed, were mostly parents buying potions supplies to send to their children at Hogwarts because they'd run out. She remembered how she and Harry used to give Ron the money to send to his parents when they went for his and Ginny's things in term time, because it was easier than setting up an owl order account.

"No. Sweet Merlin, girl." Severus sounded horrified, glancing behind him with distaste as though it was the mere sight of people that offended him. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if that was in fact the case.

"That place hardly manages to sell the ingredients a NEWT student needs, let alone the things we need. There's a smaller apothecary just a few streets away, but it's not in what I'd call a particularly desirable area, which is why I suggested we meet back here. Problem?"

She just smiled at him again. "No, no. Okay then. Well I'll see you in bit."

He nodded his head to her in acknowledgment before turning on his heel and retreating down an alleyway that led to a street Hermione didn't really like the look of. It was in the vague direction of Knockturn Alley, but she knew there were worse areas of Wizarding London than even there.

* * *

Upon entering the bookshop, Hermione couldn't help but grin in reply at the way Henrietta's wrinkled face lit up when she realised it was her. She had been in a couple of times in the past few weeks, once along with Severus to pick some books up, and it had been hard to miss the old witch's practically visible delight at the fact that they were working together again.

"Hermione, my dear! How are you? You're looking very well."

Smiling at her, Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear and approached the counter. "I'm good, thank you, Henrietta. How are you?"

"Oh me?" Henrietta waved her hand vaguely in a random direction. "I'm okay, dear – same aches and pains, but nothing out of the ordinary. Now," she said, leaning on the counter to help bring herself to her feet, "You'll be here for those books I owled Severus about last night, I presume?"

"Yes, please."

Hermione followed her through to the familiar backroom, with its walls of books and two comfy, faded leather armchairs. Her eyes alighted on a hefty pile sat waiting on the small, rickety coffee table.

"There they are, dear," Henrietta said, nodding towards them as she sank down into her chair. "Don't mind me; I'm not all too clever on my feet for long periods of time these days – although your Severus' potion helps immensely with the pain."

"He's not _my_ Severus, Henrietta," Hermione told her almost sternly, but much to her annoyance and dismay, she felt a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

No, she told herself, just as sternly. No. He wasn't in any way, shape or form hers, and nor would he ever be. She wouldn't ever want him to be, either. No more than she would want to be his, or anyone else's. It didn't work like that, wouldn't work like that. She told the niggling little voice in the back of her mind to be quiet.

But Henrietta only looked back at her, smiled, and nodded in what Hermione hoped, or assumed, was agreement. "Yes, very well. You will stay and have a cup of tea with me before you go, won't you, dear?"

Nodding, Hermione gave her a small smile and sat down easily in the opposite chair, shrinking and moving the pile of books to make room on the table for a teapot and cups to come drifting in and settle themselves down. She watched as the tea began pouring itself and glanced up at Henrietta.

"We're getting quite close with this cauldron thing now… There are a few more things to work out and try, but we think we might nearly be finished on finding the right combination of metals. It's quite exciting really."

"It sounds it," Henrietta remarked with smiling eyes, leaning forward to pick up her teacup. "Come on now, dear. You must tell me all about it."

* * *

By the time Hermione left the bookshop, shrunken books safely in her bag, she was very consciously aware that she was in danger of being late and began hurrying along the narrow cobbled streets back to Diagon Alley, glancing at her watch as she went.

When she emerged into the main street and her gaze located Severus however, she soon realised that her being late must currently be at the bottom of his list of things to be annoyed about. Standing just a few yards up ahead, outside Slug and Jiggers where they had agreed, was Severus. And Ron.

Hermione inwardly groaned when she saw them and started walking faster, almost breaking out into a jog. On the few occasions after the war, once Severus' name had been cleared, when she had happened to be in a room with both him and Ron at the same time, it had not gone well.

Ron, being Ron, and trying to be mature in the face of the end of a war, had tried and failed to make several attempts to apologise to Severus, with Harry in tow, for generally treating him like a 'prickish git' over the years (their words), and each attempt had usually ended in Ron accidentally insulting him again, and Severus merely scowling and silently stalking away, none too impressed and just wanting to be left alone. If there was one thing that winning the war hadn't changed, it was that Ron Weasley (and others labelled by the man himself as 'dunderheads') and Severus Snape were never going to get on, no matter how much the former tried to make amends.

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione said quickly as she rushed up, giving Severus a brief, but slightly strained smile, before turning to Ron. "Ron, hi! What are you doing here?"

Severus answered in a slow, sarcastic drawl before Ron could. "I had the…ah…_pleasure_ of bumping into Mr Weasley as he came out of Slug and Jiggers, and when he realised I was waiting for you, he _insisted_ on waiting with me."

Supressing the sudden urge to laugh at the poorly concealed displeasure on Severus' face, Hermione carefully placed a well-meaning smile on her own face and looked at Ron, the supressed amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"Oh, well, okay. What's up, Ron?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, shrugging, grinning, and then pulling Hermione into one of his usual bear-hugs. "Just haven't had chance to catch up with you in a while. How are you?"

After hugging her friend back for a brief moment, Hermione smiled and nodded as she pulled away. "Yeah I'm fine, Ron. Why wouldn't I be? How's Gina and you know, all the wedding plans?"

"Oh they're great, yeah. She's in her element." He grinned again, and then glanced at Severus, who was looking disinterestedly in the opposite direction, the set of his jaw making it clear that he wanted nothing more than to just leave right that instant. Ron lowered his voice and nodded to him, looking at Hermione. "So…everything's definitely alright with you two again now is it?"

Her eyes widened, gaze immediately darting to look at Severus. He was making an obvious show of not playing the blindest bit of attention to their conversation, but she knew he would be carefully listening to every word. It wasn't in his nature not to.

"Yes, everything's fine, Ron. Why?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, just wanted to check you were okay. I mean I know like…"

Hermione's eyes widened further and then she grabbed his shoulder, pulling him a few yards further away and lowering her voice. "Wait… What has Harry been telling you?"

"Well-err…Y'know, just…err…"

"Ronald!"

"Everything, Hermione," Ron said weakly, scratching at the back of his neck and glancing quickly over at his former Potions professor again. "About…y'know…"

Hermione let out a long sigh, bringing a hand up to her forehead. Was there anything Harry and Ron didn't share between the two of them? But when she took her hand away from her face again, he was grinning at her.

She frowned and glared at him. "What are you grinning about now?"

Again, Ron shrugged, but Hermione recognised the smirk that was making its way onto his face, and it smacked far too much of Fred and George for her liking.

"Nothing, I dunno…" he said, but the smirk wasn't going away, "I mean it's none of my business, but…Harry and me talked for a while and…"

"Yes?"

"Well…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a look of warning clear in her eyes. "_Ronald_…"

"Hey! Sir – Professor Snape, um…" Ron called out, moving back towards where Severus was standing, all but a minute away from beginning to tap his foot impatiently. He turned to face both Ron and Hermione as they walked the few paces back towards him, the latter following reluctantly behind and looking anxious.

"_Yes_, Mr Weasley?" Severus asked, his voice the epitome of slowly measured patience.

"Well, I was just wondering really, um…" He flushed bright red in the way Severus remembered every single Weasley did when they were embarrassed or unsure; it was an irritating habit, and one that made it nigh on impossible for them to go about concealing anything from whomever they were speaking to.

"Well come out with it, Weasley. I would quite like to get home before sunset." Here, he shot a meaningful glare at Hermione, his lips set in a firm, straight line.

"I was just wondering if you would be coming to the wedding. Um…you know, mine. And Gina's. I sent you an invite but…" Ron trailed off, and Hermione felt like she wanted the ground to swallow her up, purely from second-hand embarrassment.

"And why, Weasley, in the name of Merlin, would I want to spend a day surrounded by jovial Gryffindors, most of whom are loved up in a most sick inducing way, and most of whom also have a small brood of little Gryffindor toddlers running about with snotty noses, high on sugar and wearing ridiculous miniature dress robes?"

Hermione very almost snorted and laughed out loud at his ironically accurate description of the typical Weasley get-together but stopped herself just in time. It wasn't that she didn't love seeing her friends and the people she had come to think of as her own family too, but… It was rather funny seeing it from Severus' perspective.

"I-well-err-well… I said to Harry that you'd say as much but he said to invite you so I did, and I just thought now that you might want to come with Hermione and then it might not be so bad, and we're not that awful really and you're welcome to come, I'm sure Hermione wants you to so it's not like no-one wants you there or anything, and – "

"Mr Weasley," Severus snapped, "Are you familiar at all with the concept of separating your sentences? Or indeed, the concept of thinking before you speak?"

If it wasn't possible by that point, Hermione could have sworn Ron flushed a deeper red, and she would have laughed at how easily intimidated he still was by the 'Bat of the Dungeons' if she wasn't too pre-occupied with cringing at the whole situation she seemed to have walked right into. Ron was trying to coerce Severus into going to his wedding. With her. Dear Merlin, why did she bother getting out of bed that morning?

"Sorry, sir," Ron mumbled, finding his shoes very interesting all of a sudden. "Forget I mentioned it." There was a short, silent pause, and then he looked up again, and to Hermione's dismay, she saw the old glint of remaining Gryffindor pride and defiance in his expression. "But…It's an idea, y'know – you and Hermione coming together."

Resisting the urge to pass a hand tersely across his face, Severus merely turned his glare up a small notch and let out a short sigh. "Are you quite done, Weasley? As I said, I would like to get home before sunset."

"Right, yeah, err… Okay then. Well, see you, Hermione. Oh, and don't forget the rehearsal dinner next week, yeah?"

Hermione gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded, waving him goodbye. "Bye, Ron."

As Severus turned with almost triumphant enthusiasm to go, she turned her head back whilst trying to keep up with his long, quick strides, glared at Ron, and mouthed just four words:

"_You're dead, Ronald Weasley._"

* * *

_**So… will Severus end up attending the Weasley event of the year, or not? :P Well I rarely get a chance to write any Ron, but I found I quite enjoyed it…so I hope I got his character okay. :) Hope this chapter was okay too, and please review to let me know what you think! :D**_

_**X :D **_


	49. Undivided Honesty

_**Dear lord...I've left it about a month again, haven't I? If any of you have been on my profile you'll have seen that I've been away in China for the past week or so – I only came back yesterday and had a brilliant time, but felt the first thing I needed to do today was to get started on this chapter! :) I had wanted to update before I went, but then packing turned into a nightmare, etc, and I didn't get chance. So I'm really sorry that this is later than I had hoped! Whilst we're on the note of my profile and so on, I might as well take this chance to say that if I do ever disappear for any long period of time, or even if you're just wondering where the next update is or why it's taking a while, I always post any notes at the top of my profile saying why I might be a bit absent at certain times if I don't get chance to tell people in these colossal author's notes I seem to be developing a habit of writing. :/ So yes, if you want to know what I'm up to/where I've gone or whatever, it's always on there. :) And this has turned into a mini epic so I'm going to shut up now, apologise very quickly again for the delay, and let you get the heck on with reading the new chapter. **_

_**P.S – Interesting fact – the title for this chapter is another lyric from the song this story is named for. :)**_

_**X :D**_

_**Disclaimer – Harry Potter doesn't belong to me – good God, imagine if it did – there would be an author's note the length of OotP itself at the beginning of every book! :P**_

_**Chapter 49 – Undivided Honesty**_

* * *

The rest of Hermione's day was quiet. Very quiet. And by lunchtime, after two hours of further note making from Henrietta's books and one practise experiment, in which time Severus had probably not spoken more than five words put together to her, she was beginning to think that very quiet was definitely verging on _too_ quiet. It wasn't that Hermione wasn't used to these silences that would fall between the two of them whilst they were working; she was more than familiar with the way Severus would withdraw into himself for indefinite periods of time, especially if they were working on the theory and research side of their project. It wasn't even like she wasn't prone to do the same thing either.

But this silence was different. Almost every time before, it had been a companionable silence that existed between them – a silence filled with the background hum of thought, where each page turn of a book was barely acknowledged and the rustling of clothes and sound of footsteps on the floor was insignificant. Yet now, Hermione could sense a distinct tenseness in the silence that seemed to be suffocating her. Each time a page was turned the sound crackled crisply in the air; whenever she moved she felt like every tiny sound she made was thundering in her ears; her footsteps sounded too loud, his too pronounced. It was like every nerve ending in her body was on red alert for some danger she wasn't even aware of, and the only conclusion she could reach was that there was something Severus wasn't saying. Or rather, something he was trying not to say.

* * *

As Hermione reached the end of the second book Henrietta had loaned them to look through, she looked up at Severus with slightly narrowed eyes. For a moment, she studied his expression. Nothing was amiss in the straight-line set of his lips as he studied the heavy book in his hands, the focused look in his eyes and the way his neck curved at an elegant angle when he moved to note something down on the parchment beside him. Eventually, Hermione let out a loud sigh and put down the book she was holding with a noisy and purposeful _thud_.

Severus looked up at her, the slight indent of a scowl upon his face, indignant at the interruption. His lips moved to speak but Hermione got there first.

"You're angry," she said, looking at him plainly.

Staring at her with piercing eyes for a few seconds and cursing her Gryffindor frankness, Severus considered and finally replied with a terse sigh: "I'm not angry, Hermione, I'm – "

"What?" Her voice was slightly softer this time, a little more forgiving at the sound of her name. So they'd established that he wasn't angry at _her_, at least. "Irritated, annoyed?" She gave a gentle sigh.

"Look, I know you don't really like Ron much, or the Weasleys, or…any of my friends, for that matter… Hell, I wake up every day surprised that you still tolerate _me_, but… He really didn't mean anything by what he said. He was honestly just trying to be friendly. He's just a little…useless when it comes to things like that sometimes." A wry smile came onto her face, and she hoped he couldn't sense any of the embarrassment that she still felt over what Ron had _actually_ been implying when he had invited Severus to his wedding.

"You're mistaken," Severus said, setting his book down on the table next to hers and sighing resignedly. He hadn't intended to be offish with her and he had to admit he'd been hoping she just wouldn't bring it up and dismiss it as one of his moods, but then he'd forgotten that she was Hermione Granger and she never dismissed anything. The woman seemed born to demand answers for everything and from everyone.

"I have no exact problem with the Weasleys, or even particularly with any of your friends," he said dryly, in a way that made Hermione think he was pained to admit such a thing, "But that doesn't mean I want to sing and dance and play old chums with them at happy family gatherings either."

As he spoke the words, Severus felt a sharp pang slice through the bottom of his stomach and it was with bitterness that he realised he had just found another reason why this… _attraction_, he felt for the young woman sitting across from him was completely irrational and unwanted. Because yes it was an attraction, and yes it made him want to curse himself every time he came face to face with the realisation that yes he found himself attracted to Hermione Granger and he could do bugger all about it. Just the thought made him want to curl his hand into a fist every time until the knuckles burned white with frustration.

But the reason he had just found to add to the ever-growing list was that Hermione _did_ like to sing and dance and play old chums with people like the Weasleys at happy family gatherings, and he didn't. Because she was a part of that family, and he was a part of none.

* * *

For a few moments, Hermione just looked at him, frowning a little at the way a darkened, almost tortured look seemed to come into his eyes as he spoke, and as he fell into silence again afterwards. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she could read his thoughts. It would make everything so much easier, and she wouldn't have to play this constant guessing game with him, trying to work out the enigma he was every minute of every day.

"Well there's no need to get angry about it; just don't go. I doubt Ron's going to be offended if you decline, I think he panicked today anyway. Like I said, he was just trying a little desperately to be friendly. He really does feel bad for all that 'greasy bat of the dungeons' stuff at school, you know."

Severus arched a very almost amused eyebrow at her. "Greasy bat of the dungeons? Is that the best he and Potter could come up with? Dear Merlin, I've been called worse than that."

Hermione smiled. "I seem to remember that 'vile bastard' and 'complete arse' were amongst their other unimaginative favourites."

"Oh well it does so thrill me to know that Potter actually spent less time and brainpower on actively hating me than I had originally thought." He smirked at Hermione and then raised an eyebrow. "And you? What did you used to call me?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "I called you Professor Snape."

Severus gave her a look that plainly said he didn't believe her and her eyes widened in protest.

"No, honestly! I never disrespected you, although there were rare times when I might have wanted to. And I always maintained that if Dumbledore trusted you, then so should we." She met his gaze and he was shocked by the honesty he found shining in her eyes. "I never agreed with Harry or any of the others that you were evil. I knew you were clever, but I didn't think anyone had it in them to deceive Dumbledore of goodness. His faith in you was enough proof for me, but I knew Harry and by default Ron, was never going to accept that, so I gave up openly defending you after a while. I just ignored them."

Again, Severus found himself just staring at her for a moment, searching for any signs of dishonesty or sugar-coating in her words. He found none, and then almost wished he had.

"You never believed I was evil?"

Hermione shook her head, still slightly dazed by where their conversation had ended up. She supposed that seeing Ron trying to make amends yet again for his previous poor judgment had dredged everything back up again, hence his stony silence with her today; sometimes, she didn't fully realise how horrible it must have been to have everyone you were fighting to protect believe you were a traitor, and when she did ever think of it, a pain so acute it burned shot through her, searing through what, if she didn't know better, she would have said were her heartstrings.

"Of course I didn't. Like I said, Dumbledore's faith in you was enough proof for me. I'm not going to lie; I still disliked you intensely for most of the time I was at school. I respected and admired you, but I still disliked you for your cruelty." She looked down at her knees, fiddling self-consciously with a loose thread on the seam of her jeans. "Of course, I know now why that was necessary…and I understand that you had very good reason to genuinely dislike us too. We weren't the nicest either really, when I think about it… Sometimes I want to slap myself for some of the things the three of us did when I realise how much harder it must have made your job for you."

She lifted her gaze to meet his again, biting her lower lip. She gave him a small, wry smile and then said awkwardly: "Sorry."

Severus was, in short, taken aback. The shock must have shown on his face because immediately Hermione dropped her gaze to her knees again and he studied her for a moment – the subconscious way she was chewing on her lower lip, the way her messy curls hid most of her face from view.

At length, he gave a terse sigh and sat back in his chair. "You think and feel too much about things that are in the past. Just leave them there where they ought to be. I think it hardly matters here nor there who hated who ten years ago."

"It does when you didn't deserve all the hatred you received," Hermione said stubbornly, looking up at him again. The research books on the table in front of them were now well and truly forgotten.

Sighing again, Severus shook his head at her. "Just leave it in the past, Hermione. I don't really care for discussing it right now."

Hermione pursed her lips slightly, looking down and then back up again. "But…you will, eventually?" Her tone sounded slightly pleading. "I want… I want to be able to apologise to you properly, and I want to understand, even if… Even if you don't want me to."

"_Hermione_." His voice was loaded with an exhausted kind of warning.

She raised her eyebrows and met his gaze with her challenging one, giving him a look that insisted. "Not today, or tomorrow, or even next week or month. But one day, Severus, please. _And_," she said, swallowing and looking at him frankly, "You still owe me an explanation as to your sudden mood swing towards me in those weeks before…before Johannesburg. You promised. One day."

Sweet Merlin, was there anything she didn't want from him? But Severus thought that what annoyed him most was that he was willing to give it to her. The explanation, the discussion about his role in the war, everything. He sighed tersely, resigned to the fact that in this, he couldn't disappoint or refuse her. It would make her run for the hills and probably never speak to him again but he could hardly afford to keep it all to himself. Not now. He wasn't sure when it had started or how it had started, but he was in far too deep with her now to not owe her the truth. She would discover his attraction for her, and then his horrifying role in the war, and it would all be over. No more research, no more conversations over coffee or experiments.

But right now, she was looking at him with that faintly pleading look in her eyes, and he was just thankful that she wasn't demanding anything from him before any sort of deadline.

"One day," he finally agreed, a little grimly. He got up from his chair and cleared his notes away. "But for now, that's quite enough of the deep and meaningful, don't you think? We have more experiments to get through."

Hermione smiled at him as she too got up, finally satisfied, and feeling for some reason happier than she had in a long time. He had promised to open up to her, talk to her about before, about the war…everything. Since when had Severus Snape ever implied any inclination to do that with anybody? Just the thought made her dizzy, and she resolved not to think too hard about why. It only led to those confusing questions again and those only led to her going around in circles again.

"Okay. Oh, and Severus?"

He paused in the doorway and turned back to face her. "Yes?"

Suddenly all the confidence left her and Hermione dropped her gaze, leaving herself standing there, fiddling with her fingers and biting her lip. She looked up at him cautiously, her stance awkward.

"Well, I was just going to say that maybe you don't have to immediately refuse Ron's offer, you know… I mean, I know I said you don't need to worry about declining because Ron won't mind, but all I'm saying is that…that… Well, I wouldn't mind if…"

Slowly arching an eyebrow, Severus felt a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips and fought it back, glad she wasn't looking at him and couldn't see it. "If what?"

She looked at him properly. "If you came…to the wedding…with me. Or…alone, you know. Whatever."

For a few seconds, he just stared at her, his face an unreadable mask. But inside, he could feel possibly the most self-satisfied smirk of his life itching to make its way onto his face, and despite his conscious mind telling himself to stop this ridiculousness, very small traces of it managed to bleed through onto his expression.

"We have experiments to get through," he said, simply, and then turned back to the doorway to head back down to his laboratory, leaving her to follow him, mentally cursing herself.

Hermione heaved a long and heavy sigh as she followed him out of the room at a distance, his long paces too swift for her to catch up with. She resisted dropping her face into one hand and the desire to be swallowed up by the ground beneath her, but she definitely wished for the second time that day that she hadn't got out of bed in the morning.

* * *

_**Well, erm… So this chapter went in a completely unplanned direction, I definitely didn't have so much dialogue in mind for this chapter, but it just sort of…wrote itself that way. :/ I hope in any case that it was okay though, and please tell me your honest thoughts as always in a review! You know how much I love 'em. :) Thank you so much for reading, and I promise to try my utmost to update much sooner this time! I am on my summer holidays, after all. :)**_

_**X :D**_


	50. A Morning After

_**Hello again! Goodness, I know, an update? From me? Just over a week (not a month!) since the last one? Please, don't any of you have a heart attack! :P Thank you all very much for your reviews last chapter – I hope you enjoy this new one! England decided this week to get uncharacteristically sunny and hot, so I've been able to sit out in the garden and do a lot of writing, which has been lovely. :) So I'm sort of crossing my fingers and holding my breath with this chapter, as this is where more developments start to happen, etc., etc. and you're going to see a lot of stuff coming together very soon. Also – this is the 50**__**th**__** chapter! Whoa. I honestly never meant for this thing to get so long. Anyway, as I said, I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading. :)**_

_**Eleantris. :)**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter – I'm not nearly awesome enough. :P **_

_**Chapter 50 – A Morning After**_

* * *

'_Hell, I wake up every day surprised that you still tolerate _me_…_'

That was what she had said. Albeit it as little more than a passing comment probably intended to inject a little humour into their conversation, but still… She had said it nonetheless. Shaking his head slightly to himself, Severus steepled his long fingers under his chin and felt his lips settle into a straight, thoughtful line.

Dusk had settled its shadowy cloak down on the London streets outside, and inside his living room the light was fading, giving way to an almost ethereal, expectant greyness that lingered. Over the tops of his fingertips and from beneath a slightly furrowed brow, Severus looked across at his couch from the armchair he was comfortably settled in, and at the still form of his research assistant. She was slumped sideways against the cushions, little more than a silhouette in the dim light, with her legs tucked up underneath her and eyes closed, dead to the world.

Now that was a sight he'd never thought he'd see, Severus mused as he looked at her. Hermione Granger, fast asleep on _his_ sofa. Who'd have thought it?

She had been that way for a while. Half an hour ago her responses to what he was saying had descended into the realms of sleepy mumbles and half-coherent murmurs of agreement, and it was when silence had greeted a question about when she thought they should carry out the experiment they had planned that day that he had looked up to find her asleep. He very almost gave a wry smile and addressed the room in general: _"Well what does that say for my company?"_

Eventually Severus' thoughts returned back to what she had said to him earlier. He knew it was just a passing remark; he could even still hear the light-hearted humour that had been in her voice when she said it. And yet for reasons his subconscious didn't seem to want to explain to him, it still niggled.

'_Hell, I wake up every day surprised that you still tolerate _me_…_'

Merlin. She really did have no idea.

Severus' breath left him in a long sigh as he stood up and took out his wand. With a sharp flick he _Evanescoed_ the dregs of their coffees and sent the cups flying back to the kitchen. He looked back at Hermione's sleeping form, curled up on his couch, and sighed again. He was going to lose his greasy git reputation at this rate if he wasn't more careful.

With an almost resigned wave of his wand, he transfigured a nearby cushion into a blanket and laid it over her. The greyness of the room made her features little more than shadows against paler shadows, but the relaxed set of her smooth lips was just about visible, and the tangled mass of hair about her face was prominent as ever. He paused there, just watching for a moment as she quietly breathed - not even stirring - a peaceful, but slightly grumpy expression on her face as she slept.

Then, hesitantly, with his right hand he reached out to capture a stray curl between his fingers from where it had fallen across her face, her breath brushing it every time she exhaled. He gently moved it back out of the way, tucking it amongst the mess of other curls behind her ear. Stupidly, he let his fingers linger there for a moment before hastily withdrawing them.

A weary sigh escaped him as he looked down at her, his expression resignedly grim. What on Earth was she doing to him?

"You're sorely mistaken, you know," he murmured in a low voice, sounding very almost bitter, but not quite. "You became much more than merely _tolerable_ to me a long time ago."

_Enough_. Severus stepped back from the couch abruptly, swallowed hard and turned away so quick his joints almost clicked. _That's enough_. He left the room, covering the floor space in three swift strides. He swallowed again and mounted the stairs, flexing the fingers of his right hand unconsciously as he did so.

_Snap out of it_, he mentally berated himself, summoning a Dreamless Sleep potion with a brisk flick of his wrist.

This wasn't him; not even with Lily had he been _weak_ like this. He sneered at himself in the mirror. Covering sleeping Gryffindors with blankets and tucking their hair back out of the way? Sleeping Gryffindors who could never hold him in any other regard than as a former Potions professor, a research assistant and, maybe, a friend?

"Enough," he growled out to himself, tearing back the covers on his bed with enough force to rip them clean in two. He angrily shrugged out of his shirt and transfigured his trousers into pyjama bottoms, all the while mentally cursing himself for his own ridiculousness. He refused to be reduced to any kind of a fool.

* * *

Dawn was approaching and the greyness of Severus' living room was slowly being infiltrated by the weak, approaching sunlight when Hermione's eyes struggled open and she shifted against the cushions she'd been sleeping against.

Groggily, she tried to open her eyes wider and look around, a sleepy frown coming to her face as she did so. She felt the blanket that had tangled itself around her legs in the night with hesitancy, then sat up, still a little dazed, and looked around her in surprise as everything slowly slid into place with a resounding _click_.

It took no more than a few seconds for Hermione to register what had happened and as soon as she had, she let out a low, long groan and dropped her head into one hand, slumping backwards again.

"Holy mother of Merlin," she whispered, eyes widening as she ran her hands through the wild tangle of curls about her face – her hair even more impossible now she'd slept on it. She looked about the room again, as though desperately wishing she had been crazily mistaken and it was her own lounge back at the apartment after all.

But she wasn't mistaken. There was the fireplace, the coffee table with its Potions magazines and dents and stains from where he evidently refused to use coasters. There was the large sash window looking out onto the quiet London street, and the wooden floor so different to her own cream carpet. She groaned again and sat up properly this time, discarding the blanket that was still trapped beneath her.

She'd fallen asleep on his couch. In his living room. In his _house_. Whilst he was talking to her, and they were having coffee. Oh dear lord, what must he think? Hermione let out a long sigh and stood up, as though looking purposeful might help her to feel that way. It didn't. As soon as she was standing, she still felt at a loss, and passed both hands over her face again, trying to wipe the sleep away from her eyes and wake herself up more.

She had gone and fallen asleep on his couch. She had stayed the night at Severus Snape's house. A weird feeling stirred in her stomach at the thought of how that sounded, but she quickly swallowed and told herself to stop being ridiculous. God, this was embarrassing. She remembered feeling completely worn out, but…this? Allowing herself to get comfortable on his couch as they talked, and then falling _asleep_? What had she been thinking? Hermione almost wanted to slap herself.

But then, she stopped. And turned. Then frowned.

The blanket. She hadn't had that when she fell asleep, she had just been… Her eyes widened as she picked it up, running the soft fabric through her fingers as she looked across at the second armchair in the room – the one he didn't sit in. It was devoid of a cushion. In a flurry of movement she lunged back at the couch, stuffing her arm down the back of the seat until her fingers closed around her wand where it had got lodged there during the night. Sure enough, with a familiar wave and incantation, the blanket returned back to its former state.

For a few moments, Hermione just stared at it in something close to disbelief. She had fallen asleep on Severus' couch, and he had transfigured a blanket for her. Had just left here there to sleep. Hadn't shaken her or shouted at her to wake up, hadn't even just left her there to freeze, muttering that it was her own fault for dozing off like that.

She had the thought that maybe she was making a bigger deal out of this in her head than it actually was. It was just a blanket. He was her friend, wasn't he? She had fallen asleep, so he had covered her with a blanket and gone to bed himself. It didn't seem so weird when she thought about it like that… Harry, Ron, Ginny or any number of her friends would have done the same thing. But… Severus wasn't them, and… Unbeknownst to her, a small, vague smile found its way onto her lips, stretching across her face as she looked back at the couch and the cushion that had just moments ago been a blanket.

She checked her watch for the time – it was just approaching six thirty. Well… She was here now, wasn't she?

* * *

By the time Severus had woken up, dressed and gone downstairs, the sun was completely up and the greyness of before completely replaced by light. His expression remained blank, reserved as ever as he entered the living room and looked to the couch where Hermione had fallen asleep the night before.

It was empty. The cushions had been put back perfectly in place, newly plumped, and he noticed that even the one he had transfigured into a blanket for her had been transfigured back and returned to its armchair. For a moment, Severus wondered if he hadn't dreamed it all and if she'd even been there at all. But just the strange way he kept wanting to flex his right hand from where he had all but caressed her as she slept, and the ridiculousness he still felt over his actions convinced him he hadn't made it up. He'd never been one for hallucinations or worse, daydreams, anyway.

But she was gone. Severus breathed a deep sigh of relief as he turned back away from the couch, and hoped that perhaps she would be too embarrassed to say anything the next time they saw each other. He had just resolved himself on the probability of that and allowed his shoulders to relax, when he heard the sound of movement coming from the direction of his kitchen… And then, when he listened closer, the sound of clinking china and a boiling kettle.

Frowning and bringing his lips together in a tight, straight line, Severus set off down the hallway towards his kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway, and unknowingly said the exact same thing as Hermione had when she first work up that morning, his acerbic tongue slicing abruptly through the words.

"Holy mother of Merlin."

* * *

Hermione just about jumped nearly two feet in the air, almost dropping the two coffee cups in her hands and succeeding in knocking an empty milk bottle over. It fell to the floor with a crash, the glass smashing on impact and scattering itself across the unforgiving wooden floor.

"Jesus!"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, and skipping over the part where she was somehow in his kitchen, making _breakfast_, by the looks of it, because he couldn't quite process that part yet, he merely commented dryly: "Not Jesus, I'm afraid. Only me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she carefully set the two coffee cups she was holding down on the counter and took out her wand. "Very funny. You scared the life out of me." With a quiet _reparo_ the milk bottle came back together again and returned to the counter.

Opening his mouth to speak, and then closing it again when he realised he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say yet, Severus took a brief moment to look around. The kettle had finished boiling now but was ignored, and laid out on a plate were a few French and Danish pastries, next to which sat two paper bags with he didn't know what in, and a loaf of bread. He turned his questioning gaze back on Hermione and finally found the right words.

"Can I ask when exactly I acquired a catering service?"

Hermione gave him a withering stare and flicked the kettle back on again. "Well," she said, turning to face him properly and biting her lip, "I felt bad for falling asleep on your couch last night… Sorry about that, by the way…but thank you, for the blanket, and all…" A very slight blush crept up her neck as she met his gaze awkwardly. "But I thought this morning, since I was already here, the least I could do was make you breakfast to say sorry for falling asleep… I think I was just really tired, it was nothing to do with you, I promise, and well… You didn't really have much in and I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I went down to that bakery on the corner and got some pastries and bread if you want toast, or there's a bacon sandwich in one of the bags, and a sausage one in the other, and then I thought I'd just make coffee and then if you wanted you could chuck me out or whatever, and – "

"Merlin help the man that marries you," Severus said abruptly, cutting her off with a grumble, "Are you always this bloody talkative in the morning?"

Hermione's blush returned as she suddenly found the floor very interesting, and the kettle was once again ignored as it finished boiling. "Should I…" She looked up at him, feeling more and more awkward by the minute as she unconsciously brought a hand up to rub the side of her neck. "…Should I just…go? Sorry, I didn't mean to… Interrupt your morning, I just wanted to say sorry, and I guess now I have, so I'll just go. Okay? Yeah…okay." She managed an ever so brief smile as she moved towards the door.

For a moment, Severus could do nothing but stare between her and the coffee cups and the pastries and the other things she had bought him – _them_ – for breakfast. A faint thought lingered in the back of his mind that he felt a little like he'd just walked into some strange alternate reality, but no. This was really happening. Damn her Gryffindor sense of pride, always wanting to apologise and be generous, do the right thing, be friendly, etcetera, etcetera.

She was just shouldering her bag and moving towards the door of the kitchen again when he shot out an arm to stop her, blocking the doorway. "Wait."

She looked up at him, surprised.

Pausing a moment, Severus thought. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to just let her stay and just _have breakfast_ with Hermione Granger? Merlin, he really was on his way to losing his greasy git reputation at this rate.

"Did you say there's a bacon sandwich in there?" he asked, sounding for all the world nonchalant and indifferent to the situation as he looked to where she had pointed on the table.

"Um," Hermione looked over her shoulder at the paper bags from the bakery and then back at him, confused, "um, yes…why?"

He dropped his arm down from the doorway and moved to pick it up. "I'll have that then, if that's alright by you."

Her mouth all but dropping wide open, Hermione gaped at him for a second before nodding, and then smiling, realising what he was actually saying. "Yes. Yeah, that's fine."

She hesitated, but then seeing that he seemed to be affecting perfect indifference as he took out the bacon sandwich and summoned a plate, pulled out a chair herself and sat down, reaching for a croissant.

Then the kettle, fed up with being ignored, turned itself back on, boiled up and began pouring itself into the abandoned coffee cups on the counter.

* * *

_**Dear lord I have never worried so much about a scene being more OOC in my life. I've gone over it about a million times trying to make sure both Severus and Hermione are in character, because I have wanted this scene to happen for a long time… But if too many of you think it is out of character/out of place here, and please don't hesitate to tell me if it is, I'll re-think it or change it or take it out whatever. :) Thank you as ever for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! Things are starting to move along a bit more now, and I'm quite excited for some of the upcoming chapters. :)**_

_**Eleantris. :)**_


	51. Evening Musings

_**Well, um… Hello again. *cue sheepish smile* I know I've left it a while again, but things are getting a little hectic for me in the run up to starting my A-levels. I got back from my holiday in Austria a few days ago, and now I've got a family do thing to go to, work to finish, I got my GCSE results yesterday… and in amongst it all I kind of fell out of touch with this story. So instead of diving in and updating it as soon as possible, I decided to take a day or two to actually re-read the entire thing through, which really helped refresh me and give me a clearer picture of where everything is meant to be going. So after yet another essay-length A/N (I really need to work on these), I'll let you get on with reading the chapter now. **_

_**Eleantris :)**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. **_

_**Chapter 51 – Evening Musings**_

* * *

The arrival of spring was evident everywhere as Hermione walked home that evening; the air had lost the brisk chill of winter, and on the trees that lined the streets near where Severus lived, tiny green buds were visible at the tips of some of the branches.

Today had been…interesting, Hermione mused as she took her time wandering through the London streets in the direction of her apartment, in no hurry to get there. Almost too interesting.

Like everything with Severus, nothing fundamental had changed. Yet now, every tiny shift in their relationship, or partnership or friendship, or whatever they wanted to call it now, seemed to her like an earthquake. She had eaten breakfast with him.

Breakfast with Severus Snape.

She couldn't help but feel one corner of her lips lift up slightly into a smirk at the thought, and soon found she was smothering a chuckle to herself behind a smile. It had been…interesting, to say the least. Yes, that was definitely the word of the day. _Interesting_. After a short, ever so slightly awkward silence to begin with, they had started talking the way they did over coffee, or during experiments, or when they were looking over their notes. They just sat there, eating breakfast, swapping ideas about how the research was coming along, as though they did this every morning.

Hermione had to fight hard to push back the fact that at the time, a tiny little voice had whispered in her ear: _perhaps you would like to do this every morning._

But she couldn't think about that now, or ever, if the practical side of her had anything to do with it. Couldn't think about the way electric shocks still sparked through her veins every time their fingers brushed when she handed him something; couldn't think about the dark, herbal and sandalwood scent of him that would wash over her whenever she stood too close. And she definitely, most certainly, could not think about how every so often, she'd catch her gaze wandering to his lips as he spoke to her, and her mind wandering to the memory of those lips against hers, kissing her, devouring her, moulding to her own as she pressed herself against him, felt his strong arms anchoring her there.

No. _That_ was something Hermione vehemently told herself she was not allowed to think about.

* * *

"There you are!"

Hermione just about jumped out of her skin at the sound of Ginny's voice, and snapped her head up from where she'd been searching her bag for her keys to see the youngest Weasley standing outside her apartment door, one hand resting absently over her now more than medium sized baby bump.

"I tried to call on you this morning, but you weren't in. Or at least you weren't answering the door, and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I was getting in. What kind of wards have you got on this place?"

Giving her a wry smile, Hermione deactivated her wards silently and unlocked the front door, stepping back to allow Ginny through first. "Strong ones," she said, closing the door behind her and carelessly flinging her coat to rest over the cloak stand. "Can never be too careful."

"Where were you this morning anyway then?" Ginny asked as they both moved into the kitchen, the kettle beginning to boil at the flick of Hermione's wand. "And last night, for that matter. Ron mentioned he tried to floo you – I think he wanted to talk to you about something or other to do with the wedding – but he said you weren't here then either."

Hermione busied herself with retrieving two mugs, gesturing with one to Ginny to check she wanted some tea too, and taking the milk out of the fridge. But her silence was long enough for the pregnant witch to grow suspicious, and when Hermione turned back around, she found herself on the receiving end of narrowed eyes and the scary beginnings of a smirk.

"_Wait_," Ginny said slowly, leaning back against the countertop with her hands resting on it either side of her, as though bracing herself. "You didn't…?"

"No!" Hermione stared at her, incredulous.

"So you didn't…stay the night at Professor Snape's?"

Feeling a fervent blush rising in her cheeks, Hermione turned away again and began pouring milk into the two mugs, although she usually added the milk after the water. "No, well… _Yes_," she admitted with a sigh, "But not in the way that you're thinking."

"So… What? Nothing happened?"

If Hermione didn't know better, she'd have said that Ginny sounded almost disappointed. "_No_, Ginny. Nothing happened." She was glad of the kettle whistling at that point to signal that it had finished boiling, so that she could avoid looking the other witch in the eye for a little bit longer. Because it was true. Nothing had happened. But… what scared her was that somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought that maybe, just maybe she wished that something had.

"I accidentally fell asleep on his sofa, so he just left me there to sleep. That's all."

Ginny watched with still narrowed eyes as her friend took longer than necessary to pour boiling water into the two mugs and stir in sugar. "That's all?" she repeated, and this time the slight edge of exasperation to her voice was unmistakeable. "And this morning?"

"_Nothing happened_, Gin," Hermione said slowly as she turned around, handing one of the steaming mugs of tea over. "I woke up early, and figured that, well… Since I was there, and I'd been stupid enough to fall asleep on his sofa, that I should…say sorry. So I got breakfast and – "

She was cut off by the sound of Ginny very almost spitting out her tea, and her loud cough as she just about managed to choke it down. "You had _breakfast_ together?"

Hermione put on her best innocent face, averting her eyes as she lifted her own mug to her lips. "Yes."

There was a soft clunk as Ginny put her tea down on the countertop. "Hold up a minute, give me time to fully picture this. You and Professor Snape, having breakfast together. _Breakfast_. Together." She grinned mischievously, and for a second Hermione was reminded of the Weasley twins' identical smiles. "What did you do? Sit there pouring his coffee whilst he read to you from the morning paper?"

At this, Hermione gave her a short glare. "No! Watch it, Mrs Potter. If you weren't pregnant, I'd hex you for that."

Ginny only laughed. "You're even starting to sound like him! Just, you know… I can actually tell when you're joking."

"Whatever." Hermione pointedly turned to put down her tea and reached up in a cupboard for her biscuit tin. "Ginger Newt?" she asked, trying to change the subject as she looked back at Ginny over her shoulder.

But the flame-haired witch was just staring back at her with those same sparkling, mischievous eyes and the dangerous beginnings of a smirk on her face. "You still do it, you know," she said cryptically, picking up her tea again as Hermione abandoned the Ginger Newt mission and turned back around. "Even more than you used to, actually."

"Do what?" Hermione frowned at her and then dropped her gaze back down to the tea in her hands.

Smiling, Ginny waited until her friend looked back up again, and then said softly, but still with that cryptic tone of self-satisfaction in her voice: "Light up. When you talk about him."

With a groan, Hermione tried hard to resist the urge to roll her eyes and failed. "Not this again, Ginny. I do _not_ light up! Whatever that even means anyway."

"It _means_," Ginny teased, her smile taking on more the characteristics of a smirk with every passing second, "that when you talk about him, or when someone else mentions him, your face does this sort of thing where it lightens, and it's like your lips are curving up of their own accord. And don't even get me started on your eyes."

"What's wrong with my eyes?!"

Ginny laughed. "Nothing, Hermione. But they light up too, even more than the rest of your face. It's like they practically _glow_ whenever Snape comes up."

This time, there was no hiding the blush that crept up Hermione's neck and suffused her cheeks, tainting them a deep pink. Ginny just looked at her smugly and leant back against the counter again, crossing her arms over the top of her swollen stomach. "There you go again."

Hermione could think of nothing else to do but shoot a glare at her over the rim of her tea mug and mutter a sharp, "Shut up; you're just being ridiculous," before taking a long drink.

"We're okay with it, you know," Ginny continued on nonchalantly, as though not hearing her. "Harry, Ron and I. And I bet everyone else would be too, once they thought about it. You know, if anything were ever to happen between you and Professor Snape."

Another loud, exasperated groan came from Hermione as she finished her tea and all but slammed the empty mug down into the sink. "Ginny, for the last time, nothing is ever going to happen between me and Severus!"

But the younger witch didn't seem fazed. She just shrugged and held both hands up in defeat with a smile. "Fine, fine. I just want you to know – "

"_Ginny_."

"Okay, okay! I'll drop it."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a long sigh, rolling her eyes again. "What did you want to see me about, anyway? Surely you haven't spent all day wanting to talk to me about your ridiculous matchmaking theories?"

"No," Ginny said with a smile, finishing her own tea and levitating the mug gently into the kitchen sink. "Gina's organised a sort of tamed-down version of a hen party for tomorrow night – you know, just a few drinks and then a meal, nothing too wild. She said she'd send you an owl with the details and stuff in the morning, and she would have dropped in to ask if you were coming herself, but something's gone wrong with the dress or something, and she needs to go get it refitted, or…I wasn't listening to all of it, but yeah. You'll come, right?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Hermione said, nodding. "I think Hestia mentioned something about it in her last owl to me a couple of days ago. Who else is coming?"

"So far, I think it's me, you, Hestia like you said, Fleur, Hannah Abbott – you know how they're old friends from the Quidditch pitch? I think Luna's coming as well, and probably a couple of other people Gina was friends with at school."

"Sounds great!" Hermione smiled warmly, and meant it. It had been a while since she'd been out properly – in fact, she couldn't remember having a girls' night out since before she and Carl broke up. It would be nice to see everyone again.

"Brilliant." Ginny beamed at her, one hand resting almost absentmindedly over her baby bump again, fingers splayed protectively. "I doubt I'll have another chance to go out properly before this little one is born."

"How long till he or she is due?"

"I'm due the middle of June sometime, but if he's anything like James, he'll be a little earlier than that and scare us all again," Ginny said, almost cradling her bump protectively now as she glanced down with it at a smile.

For a moment, Hermione just watched her with a faint smile on her face. A small part of her wished that her life could be as easily happy as Harry and Ginny's had turned out, but at the same time she knew, like Harry had said, that she would never truly be happy with something so simple and easy. It seemed, she thought almost grimly, that she liked a challenge in every area of her life, not just in her academic pursuits. But no part of her begrudged Harry and his wife's happiness; she only had to hold James in her arms and hear him calling her 'Aunty 'Mione!' or see Teddy whizzing around on the mini broomstick she had bought him in order to share in it.

"He?" she asked after a short pause when Ginny looked back up again.

"Well, we're not sure, because we want it to be a surprise, but… Harry and I just have a feeling it's going to be another boy. But then I thought James was going to be a girl, so I could be wrong," Ginny replied with a laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear on one side.

"Well I'm sure he or she will be gorgeous no matter what. How are Teddy and James, anyway?"

"Yeah, they're great. Teddy still goes to Andromeda on weekends, but him being with us has definitely worked out for the best. I don't think she could cope with him all the time at her age. And James is, well…James." At this, Ginny grinned, and there was a glow in her eyes that only a mother could have. "I think he's going to be worse than Harry was when he gets to Hogwarts!"

"Oh Merlin! Is that even possible?"

Both witches laughed, each remembering just how acute Harry's knack had always been for getting himself and his friends in trouble during their earlier years at Hogwarts. They spent the rest of the evening reminiscing, laughing over the good times and glossing, not insensitively, but mutually, over the bad. And for one evening, Hermione managed to push all niggling thoughts and worries about her relationship, partnership, friendship, whatever it was, with Severus, to one side.

* * *

Severus, on the other hand, spent his evening in deep contemplation. The tumbler of firewhiskey in his hand was practically untouched, as though he'd forgotten he was holding it at all, and he was staring ahead, unseeing at the empty couch across from where he sat. His thoughts had been whirling around in his head all day, and now he felt it was time for him to organise them, separate them from his emotions so that he could decipher them properly. After a long time spent in deep thought, he had come to the conclusion that there were three main things bothering him.

One: he was attracted to Hermione Granger, and those feelings most certainly could not be reciprocated. Even she had said herself; she had kissed him out of desperation to prove a point. Not out of any genuine feeling.

Two: he was completely undecided as to whether or not to attend the Weasley menace's wedding with her or not. And just that fact was a problem in itself. If he did go, he would be subjected to everything a Weasley get-together entailed, and he really wasn't sure that he could suffer hours in the company of so many rowdy, ridiculously happy Gryffindors. But Hermione _had_ said, although not in so many words, that she would like him to be there. Not that he was just going to go to please her. That would never do. If he decided he didn't want to go, he wouldn't go, and that was that. But if he could think of no worse way to spend a Saturday than at Ron Weasley's wedding, why was he still undecided?

Three: their research was close to completion. And whist that filled him with a sense of building anticipation, the familiar thrill of discovery, it also filled him with dread. Because once it was over, what excuse would he have for keeping Hermione around? He wouldn't need an assistant anymore, would he? He felt sure that next time, he wouldn't pick a research topic quite so complex as to require help.

And that, was where Severus got stuck. Letting out a long, slow sigh, he got up and began to pace the room, continuing to pay no attention to the drink still held absently in his hand.

Perhaps it would be for the best if he were to just politely dismiss her once this was all finished with. He could see no reason why they shouldn't part on cordial terms, to become acquaintances who greeted each other amiably when they saw each other, and leave it at that. The distance would certainly resolve his suffering. If he didn't have to see her every day, if he didn't have to be constantly reminded of the softness of her lips against his and the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, then perhaps it would all be a lot easier.

But what caused Severus to be stuck was the fact that, out of the blue, a part of him had emerged that _wanted_ to be constantly reminded of those things, a part that desired nothing more than to continually be tortured by the fact that her friendship was the most he would ever have, and that that would have to be enough. He looked down at the floor with a bittersweet, grim smile. He always had possessed a masochistic side that loved nothing better than to rear its ugly head when it was least needed.

Not for the first time that year, Severus found himself at a loss for what to do, and it was all her fault. He wanted to hate her for it, but couldn't.

He had spent his life calculating his way through every situation and always knowing exactly what to do. Yet when it came to the intelligent, caring, animated, headstrong Gryffindor who had somehow crept her way stubbornly beneath his skin in a distinctly Slytherin-like manner, without him noticing, he lost all sense of what to do.

About one thing he had been right: she almost certainly was going to be the death of him.

* * *

_**I'm not sure if you'll see this as a filler or not, but there are some things in here that signal the beginning of a sort of build-up to the climax of the 'will they-won't they' part of the story, if that makes sense. I hope it was alright anyway, and please review honestly to let me know what you think! Anyone who has ever given me constructive criticism before will tell you that I take it extremely well; in fact I am prone to love anyone forever who is confident enough to tell me that I did something wrong and should improve it. :) **_

_**Thank you as always for reading!**_

_**Eleantris :)**_


	52. Friendship

_**Five A-levels eat away at your time faster than Ron Weasley eats away at the beginning of term Hogwarts feast. And that's a terrible analogy, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm really sorry for the delay.  
**_

_**Eleantris. :)  
**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. **_

_**Chapter 52 – Friendship**_

* * *

He had just been about to turn the heat down under the cauldron to reduce their second experiment of the day down to a simmer when he heard her clear her throat behind him. Looking up from the swirling mix of gold, silver and platinum base, Severus turned to see Hermione hovering by a supply cupboard she had just been restocking. When she didn't speak, which he thought a little odd, though he'd realised that she had been quieter than usual that day, he sighed and said in his slow, enunciated drawl: "Yes?"

She smiled at him a little distractedly, as though only just realising she had his attention. "Sorry. I was just, err…was just wondering if it's okay for me to leave a little earlier than usual?"

"Of course it is. You're here of your own volition, not on my say so particularly. You don't need my permission to leave when you want, Hermione."

Had she been paying more attention, Hermione would have noticed the slight, suppressed note of pain to his voice, evidence of the disdain he felt at the idea that she may still see him as her formidable Potions Professor. He liked making people afraid of him; it was the best way to keep them at a distance, but he didn't want it for her. Never her.

But as it was, Hermione didn't notice, her mind hazy as it was with indefinable thoughts. She just smiled slightly at him again. "Oh, I know. I just wanted to check you didn't…need me." The anxious intonation of her last two words hung in the air and she almost winced, hoping only she could hear it.

"I'll manage for a few extra hours without you." Severus turned away from her to check on their potion. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione blinked at the back of his head in surprise. "Pardon?"

"I asked if everything was alright."

"Oh." She moved to join him by the cauldron, standing opposite him on the other side of the workbench. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

He gave her a cursory glance upwards before returning his gaze to the delicate contents of the cauldron. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet today," he said, as though merely pointing out a fault in their research calculations.

"Oh, well I…err… I have a lot on my mind, I guess. Sorry."

"Like?"

For a moment, a frown flickered to life on Hermione's brow at the question. Since when did he care to know precisely what was bothering her? But, she supposed they _were_ friends, weren't they? Sort of. She didn't really know.

"Um, it's nothing really. I've just been thinking."

There was a silent pause. Severus didn't lift his eyes from the potion, and then asked: "About?"

"Oh, well…" Hermione felt the frown make more of an impression now, and her fingers began absentmindedly fiddling with the pages of notes beside the cauldron. "It's Gina's sort-of hen party tonight – you remember Gina Scott, from the year above me? Hufflepuff? Well, she's who Ron's marrying and – "

"I do know." He glanced up at her, lips set in a straight line, but looking almost amused. "I was invited, remember? But go on."

Severus couldn't explain why he was suddenly curious to know what had been plaguing her all day, but when he looked up and noticed her blush, his curiosity only increased.

"Yeah, sorry, of course." Hermione gave him a small, almost flustered looking smile. Well she couldn't exactly refuse to carry on now that he had backed her into a corner, could she? As she spoke, she watched him carefully ladle a different cooled potion from earlier into vials for testing later.

"Um…like I said, it's nothing really. It's just all got me thinking that, well… Everyone I know is either getting married or engaged or pregnant or is in a relationship…except me." She looked up, relieved to see he was still filling vials as though she hadn't spoken at all, and gave a quiet, nervous laugh. "I said it was nothing, just being…silly, I guess. I sound ridiculous now. I didn't mean it like… I'm not whining. I do like my life as it is, I just…" She sighed, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter."

Reaching for a ladle of her own, Hermione started on helping to fill the vials as she waited for his no doubt caustic reply to come, ridiculing her for her ridiculousness and telling her to take her trivial worries elsewhere. He would tell her she was being silly. She _felt_ silly.

However, no such remarks came. For a while, neither she nor Severus spoke, and she was beginning to think that the subject had been dropped, or rather hope that it had been, when he stopped to put down his ladle and looked up at her.

"You can hardly complain, Hermione, that you are not like your friends in that respect."

She couldn't work out if he was smiling or smirking at her, but there was a reassuringly derisive warmth to his eyes that was familiar. He did think her silly, but not in the way she had feared.

"Where, I wonder, are you supposed to find someone with whom you'd like to be in a relationship when you spend almost every waking moment with me?"

His words had their intended effect, and Hermione laughed, although deep inside her, something _tugged_.

For a brief moment, a heavy pain arrested Severus' heart, because it had finally started – they had reached the point where she felt comfortable enough to invite him into her confidence – and he could see it all now. One day, soon probably, she _would _find herself in a relationship, and he would have to stand aside, feeling terribly old, as he listened to her talk about the wizard in question, and then one day she'd turn up with a ring on her finger. He'd watch her get married, pregnant, say goodbye to her as she ended their partnership… One day, many decades into the future, she would stand at his funeral and simply refer to him as her Potions Professor. Their research together would be a short stint in her life. If he was lucky, he would perhaps become an 'old friend'.

Reality crashed into him with alarming force, and Severus was momentarily frozen as Hermione's bright gaze met his, her mouth wide and smiling as she laughed, lit up, and all he heard was a small, melancholic whisper in his ear: _beautiful_.

But not his. Never his.

"That's true, Severus," she said as her laughter slowly died away. "That's very true."

Swallowing, he just glanced at the clock on the wall and said, slightly stiffly: "Didn't you want to leave early?"

"Yes." She beamed at him, laughter still in her eyes as he put down her ladle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Severus didn't turn as she gently touched his arm by way of thanks on the way out, but said just before she left: "No. Take the day off."

"What?" Hermione whirled around, not even trying to hide her surprise.

He looked over his shoulder, an empty vial still held in one hand. "Take the day off. If you have a few drinks tonight you won't be of any use to me tomorrow anyway."

"Oh. Um, okay…" She tried hard to quell the feeling of disappointment quietly simmering in her stomach. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Have a lie-in for once, go shopping, read a book…whatever it is you used to do in your free time."

"Okay…well, um, thank you. I'll see you on Friday then."

With that she left, wondering why she felt so dejected at the prospect of having a whole day to herself in which to do…nothing.

* * *

Ginny grinned when Hermione opened the door for her a few hours later and looked her up and down appraisingly. "Wow, you look nice. Much better than me, anyway." She glanced down at her top and dark jeans, almost glaring at her bump as though begrudging it her flat pumps and the fact that she had had to forego a dress.

Hermione simply laughed at her. "Ginevra Molly Potter, don't be ridiculous. You could be carrying triplets and come out wearing the largest Weasley jumper it's possible for your mother to knit and you'd still look gorgeous."

Rolling her eyes because she'd heard it all before, Ginny moved inside and cast a look over her shoulder. "Can I use your loo before we go, Hermione?"

"Yeah, sure. You know where you're going – second door to the right of the kitchen, yeah?"

"Yep. Thanks."

Whilst Ginny was in the bathroom, Hermione took a moment to glance in the mirror as she reached for her coat. She had managed to smooth her hair into what just about passed for sleek, rather than messy, curls, and a small touch of brown eyeliner and mascara highlighted her eyes. She looked…pretty, she had to admit. Or at least as close to it as she felt she was ever going to get anyway. Not that she cared much. It had always seemed so absurd to her that anyone could base any sort of judgment of a person on their aesthetic appearance.

Hermione was just slipping on the pair of black heels she kept at the back of her wardrobe, rarely worn, when Ginny returned.

"Ready to go?" They moved toward the fireplace, Hermione picking up the jar of floo powder as they did so.

Ginny went first, disappearing in a flurry of green flame before Hermione followed, wand already at hand to perform the necessary cleaning charms once they were spat out into the living room of the Burrow. The plan was to start with a few drinks and a catch-up there, and then walk down to an Italian restaurant in the nearby Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole, where they had a table reserved, courtesy of Hermione, as most of the others still hadn't a clue how to use a Muggle 'fellytone', although Mr Weasley was always fascinated to hear her try to explain it to them all over Sunday lunch.

* * *

The cosy lounge of the Weasley family home was decked out in pink, Gina the centre of attention and beaming from ear to ear, the familiar diamond glistening on her finger and the warm light turning her blonde hair to gold as she welcomed and chatted with everyone.

For the first ten minutes or so, Hermione felt overwhelmed. It had been a while since she'd seen everyone all together, and it half reminded her of the old Order or DA meetings at first, only without the men or looming danger. And of course, Gina had never been a member of either organisation. She sometimes thought that perhaps that was what made her and Ron so perfect for each other; Gina hadn't been involved in the war, beyond ensuring she kept her head down and did nothing to cross anyone who might drag her into it. She didn't know every pain Ron had been through, every sacrifice and near-miss and scrape with death. Ron needed that. He wasn't like her, or Harry, to that extent. He was content, not to forget, but to gently set it aside at least. Gina helped him to do that.

After a while, Hermione managed to relax. She told herself to forget about the research for a few hours, along with the omnipresent question of her possible, unfathomable attraction to a certain ex-Potions Professor, and enjoy herself. Soon, Ginny and Harry would be busy with the new baby, Ron and Gina would be off on their honeymoon in Romania, and she would be left again, feeling a little…not unhappy or abandoned, but lost. Drifting. Looking for something she wasn't sure she'd ever find.

However, if Hermione's main aim of the night was to avoid thinking about Severus Snape, then she was preparing herself for a fall. Everyone – Hestia, Hannah, Fleur, Luna, Gina – asked how her research with him was going, and how they were getting along. And every time they asked she had to grip her wine glass tighter as she tried very hard to not 'light up' as Ginny always put it, when she answered them.

"But really, Hermione, are you _sure_ you're enjoying it?" Hestia asked for what felt like the hundredth time as she and Hermione sat together near the fireplace, catching up and occasionally joining in the others' conversation. "He's not working you like a first year in detention?"

"No!" Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Of course not. You know, spending time with him really isn't as bad as you all think. Severus is actually very enjoyable company when he wants to be, and we sort of complement each other." She swilled the red wine around in her glass and looked up at her former boss, a smile on her lips and a warm blush suffusing her cheeks, although later she would blame it on the alcohol.

"We're… friends," she said after a moment, then knocked back the last of her wine casually.

Hestia simply raised an amused eyebrow, though her gaze was vaguely suspicious. "Mm-hm," she hummed. "Well…I'm glad to hear it. I think."

* * *

_**Everything kicks off next chapter, and Luna will make a proper appearance, I promise. :P I'll try my best to get it done as soon as I can. Thank you for reading, if you're still here. :)**_

_**Eleantris :)**_


	53. An Implosive Impasse

_**Well hello again. :) I'm back from my NaNo-ing adventures! I had hoped to be able to get an update to you just before November started, but some personal things happened and everything went a little haywire. I hope you can forgive me. :) Thank you all for your patience these last couple of months, and here's the next chapter anyway…if you haven't all abandoned me. :) Enjoy, and thank you also for all your lovely reviews. You still continue to make my days.**_

_**Eleantris :)**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. **_

_**Chapter 53 – An Implosive Impasse**_

* * *

Severus chewed absently on the inside of his mouth as he reached for the glass stirring rod to his left. His teeth were gritted, jaw set and shoulders squared as he brewed, his entire body less fluid and more rigid than it usually was when he was in his lab. She wasn't here, he kept telling himself. It was infuriating the amount of times he had turned to ask her to hand him something, or held something out for her to take, only to be greeted by the silence from cool, stagnant, and empty air. But he should get used to it. She wasn't always going to be there, and he had been surprised to find that he needed to retrain himself to brew alone. How had she slipped into his senses so easily, so subtly, imbuing herself there as habit without him ever noticing?

He needed to start easing her out, gently, piece by piece. That way when she left, and her eventual leaving was inevitable, she wouldn't be ripping herself from beneath his skin, from just under his ribcage in the left side of his chest, but would simply be drifting away from him, pulling a few lingering, tendrils of ties behind her. She might not leave next week, or next month, or in a few months, even. But she would, at some point in the future. He wanted it to hurt as little as possible.

He picked up the tiny vial of platinum essence and added a small, precise drop to the base he was experimenting on. He was just thinking that she was a little bit like the silver element he was being so careful with – infinitely precious, yet ultimately dangerous if caution was not taken to distance yourself and measure your exposure – when the blackness boomed before him, and a hellish sound raked through his ears.

He felt a harsh scrape and thud at the back of his head, an absence of oxygen, and then nothing.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione, could you pass me the pepper?"

Smiling widely and setting down her fork, laden with pasta, Hermione passed the pepper grinder across Ginny to Hestia, who received it with a grin.

She began spattering it liberally across her spaghetti. "This food is so good. Hey, Gina, do you know if they've got some of Hogwarts' house elves back there in the kitchen?"

Everyone around the table laughed, remembering well the sumptuous feasts of their school days, but a few cast surreptitious glances around the cosy Italian restaurant, watching their fellow diners – all Muggles – to ensure they weren't taking any particular notice of what was being said.

A conversation started up about the flowers – there were exclamations of how well the white lilies and lilac roses would go with Gina's colouring, and glowing descriptions of bouquets – and Luna was just in the process of warning everyone about a certain type of Nargle that liked to nest in lilac roses, when Hermione felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and heard someone quietly clear their throat behind her.

She turned away from the happy gargle of chatter at the table to see a waiter stood by her chair, looking a little nervous. He seemed young, barely older than seventeen, and Hermione wondered if perhaps tonight was his first shift.

"Err… Sorry, Miss, but there's ah… There's someone here asking for you. They say it's urgent." He looked behind him towards the restaurant door, and following his gaze, Hermione realised why he looked so anxious and confused.

At the door stood what was, to any Muggle at any rate, a very odd looking man indeed. His hair was dark, face cleanly shaven and showing a strong, intelligent jaw line. He had on a dark grey cloak, and beneath that, an almost clergyman-like lime green robe that Hermione instantly recognised as the uniform of the St. Mungo's healers. She rose from the table, frowning.

As she approached him, the Healer stepped towards her. "Miss Granger," he greeted, with what Hermione could only describe as a grim smile. "I've had a job locating you tonight, that's for sure. I eventually managed to contact Mr Potter and he directed me here."

Still frowning, Hermione asked, feeling a sickening panic subtly closing her throat, "Why, what's happened? …Who…?"

The Healer paused, and she could feel her heartbeat begin to pound achingly in her chest, sounding out the syllables of the name she expected but dreaded to hear. _Henrietta_.

Not now. Please. Not yet. Not tonight.

But if it were so…why would the Healers contact her? How would they know to? She wasn't next of kin, or of any relation at all, for that matter.

But no matter the speed of her thoughts or racing of her heart, nothing could have prepared Hermione for what the Healer told her next.

"It's Severus Snape, Miss Granger. We were alerted – or rather, the authorities were initially alerted – to a dangerous implosion of magical elements at his home a few hours ago. I'm sorry to say he's in a critical condition, Miss."

* * *

It wasn't the first time Hermione had felt as though the magnetic poles of the Earth had lost their power, and jerked her entire world off its axis with one fell swoop of her stomach, but she had never learnt to deal with the sort of staggering sense of shock that came with such news. She stared blankly at the Healer for a moment, with wide, panicked eyes, and felt her blood start pulsing manically through her veins, as though her heart had forgotten how to pump it properly.

It didn't even occur to her to ask the questions 'where, what, when, why, _how_?' as she swiftly returned to the table, gathered up her coat and hurriedly made her excuses in a voice that refused to remain steady. She was leaving the restaurant with the Healer, whose name she hadn't even asked, within two minutes.

As they stepped outside, the air mild for the time of year, although Hermione could only feel cold – piercing, penetrating cold, that made her shiver and sweat at the same time – he told her he'd apparate them from a safe place straight into the hospital itself, but she barely heard him.

She could only hear the horrified thumping of her own heart in her chest, and her deafening cries inside her mind willing that his was still beating, and would continue to do so.

* * *

St. Mungo's had the rare quality that Muggle hospitals lacked, in that it never smelt of death and disinfectant the way they did, but instead the air had a neutral, not pleasant but not unpleasant smell, but Hermione still hated it. She hated the anxiety that echoed in every tap of her heels down the tiled corridors, she hated the gleaming white walls and the white magic that hummed subtly in the air, the way everyone was busy, the way everyone looked so scared, so serious, yet so calm at the same time. It was a place of conflicting elements, of good and bad, and it terrified her.

_He_ terrified her.

The thought of losing him. It tightened the already wound knot in her stomach, and when the Healer – whose name was McCarthy – asked her to wait a few moments outside of a nondescript, white door, much like every other one she had passed as they'd made their way through the hospital, she felt sure she was going to be sick.

No-one was explaining anything to her, no-one was telling her anything. It niggled at her mind that perhaps she should ask, but she couldn't trust herself to open her mouth, let alone speak. A building pressure of bitter salt was stinging the back of her eyes, an iron lump in her throat forming that she felt might burst into a choking sob at any minute.

After just a few brief moments, Healer McCarthy reappeared again.

"As I've already told you, Miss Granger, Mr Snape is in a critical condition. Whilst we can see no severe signs of the magic involved infecting his system as such, the physical consequences of the explosion were serious. You'll find him in a coma, although we are unable to judge how alert his subconscious is beyond that."

Hermione tried to suck in a deep breath, but found she could only take in a shallow intake of air. Her throat constricted further. "A-and…" She tried again. "What…what are his injuries?"

The Healer looked grim, but she supposed she should be grateful for his not sugar coating it.

"The coma is the result of a severe injury to his head, close to his temple, the other effects of which we are unable to completely determine whilst he remains unconscious. He's suffered serious muscle damage from the blast, burns, broken ribs, a fractured arm, and extensive blood loss from the head wound. The bones, of course, are easily fixed, but it's the drain on his energy and his magic we're most worried about. He's very weak, Miss Granger."

The word reverberated in her head painfully a few times: _weak_. It was never a word she thought could possibly be used in conjunction with the name of her former Potions master. It wasn't fitting; it wasn't right. He was the strongest, most formidable man she knew. Nothing in this world could possibly make him _weak_.

But…he had endured so much already, both physically and mentally. There was only so much torture and injury one human body could take, even a magical one had its limits. She tried to take another deep breath and failed.

"Are you ready to see him, Miss Granger?"

She wasn't ready. And yet she was dying to at the same time. She managed a meek, shaky nod, and the Healer gently pushed the door open for her, letting her enter before him.

* * *

Hermione felt herself silently choke as she approached the bed. A shimmer of magic covered his body, monitoring his vital signs – so much more discrete than the constant beeping of a Muggle heart monitor – but nothing could disguise the deep grazes on his face, the bandaging to his head, imbued with some kind of healing potion, the worryingly shallow rise and fall of his chest and the paler than usual pallor of his skin. He looked sickly, a deathly shade of pale, and she was reminded of the darkest days of her Hogwarts years, when Voldemort was regaining his strength and Severus was once again a servant to two masters.

She sat down in the chair at his bedside, fearful her legs might collapse beneath her if she didn't.

For a long while, she just sat and stared at him. Healer McCarthy had quietly told her she could stay for as long as she liked and slipped out. She barely moved, barely dared to breathe, even, as she watched him take in shallow amounts of air and exhale them shakily. His eyes were closed, as if in sleep, but the maze of cuts across his sharp features and the bruising and burns visible now on his neck told a different story. She could see now, too, the scars from Nagini's snake bite – white and putrid on the side of his neck, ugly reminders of an ugly time.

He didn't deserve this.

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long it was before she reached out, shaking, to touch him. Her fingertips brushed his shoulder first, then withdrew, touched his arm, his chest. They fluttered above the magical gauze for a moment, as though unsure of where to settle. Eventually, she moved her hand down to take his, tucking her quaking fingers around his, still as stone.

She felt as though she should say something. That was what everyone said, wasn't it? That you should talk to patients in a coma, because they might be able to hear you. But what should she say? Words wouldn't form in her mind, let alone on her tongue, and she remained silent. She could only sit and stare at his unmoving form, as though waiting for time alone to heal him – as though to move from his bedside would be inconceivable until he opened his eyes again, until she felt the movement of muscles against her palm where it rested against his.

Her thoughts were incoherent as she sat there - racing, but indecipherable. A million different emotions and thoughts created havoc in her chest, tightening the valves of her heart, thinning her blood. She felt drained.

What had he been doing? Why had he been brewing without her there to help? How had it gone wrong? What had happened? Why? How?

She hardly knew what questions she wanted to ask, but then the only person who could give her answers was laid before her, in no state to hear her, let alone reply. Her gaze traced the pale, paper-thin skin of his eyelids, closed over obsidian stone – often cold, sometimes warm. Invisible now. She followed the noble line of his nose, the sharp cheekbones and narrow jaw. Without his usual layers of black wool robes, and just a hospital gown and sheet to cover him, she could see how thin he was. The war had long been over. He should look after himself better. She felt an insatiable desire rising up inside her to be the one to look after him. He needed someone to do it, after all. He needed _somebody_. Because this – this silent, powerless state – was what happened when he didn't have anyone.

* * *

A message arrived from Ginny an hour or two later, hoping that everything was okay, and asking what had happened. Hermione sent back a short, explanatory reply, but kept her vigil at Severus' bedside. It was as though the hand she clasped was stone, unable to relinquish hers, and she surrendered to that thought.

Later, when midnight had passed and the early morning hours were advancing still, a Healer came in to find Hermione asleep in the chair, her neck bent sideways to rest her temple against the wall. Her hand still held Severus' cold one. Not having the heart to wake or move her, the Healer transfigured the chair into something more comfortable, propped a pillow behind her neck to stop it cricking, and covered her in a blanket.

When Hermione woke the next morning, bleary-eyed and stiff despite the larger, more comfortable chair and pillow and blanket, nothing had changed.

The charm monitoring his vitals showed no change – the Healers who came in and busied around him reported very little to her.

She remained where she was.

* * *

_**I'm sorry to update after such a long delay with such a grim chapter, but I assure you I'm not the type for an unhappy ending. This will resolve itself, but I've had it planned for a while now, so… I hope you're all okay with it. Thank you for reading, and please let me know your thoughts in a review. :)**_

_**Eleantris :)**_


	54. Epiphany

_**Hello! Yes, it really is me, updating after a delay of less than two weeks! Think of it as an early Christmas present. :) But really the reason for this update is that all my schoolwork and things are winding down now as the holidays approach, so I've got more time to write, which is brilliant. Thank you all for your reviews, and happy reading!**_

_**Eleantris :)**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. **_

_**Chapter 54 – Epiphany**_

* * *

Hermione stared down at the coffee and croissant in front of her without seeing them as anything more than a blur of bitter and sweet. She only tasted the bitterness.

She'd been bundled off to the hospital cafeteria, supposedly because the bandages covering Severus' head wound needed changing, and more tests needed conducting, but she suspected that the Healers just thought she needed a break and something to eat. She had caught sight of herself in a mirror on the way down the pristine corridors – it wasn't an altogether brilliant sight, she had to admit. The makeup she had applied for Gina's hen party was still there, but smudged from sleep around her eyes, and her lips were dry, creases from worry indented in her forehead. She looked tired – drained.

Hermione chewed on the croissant without tasting it, her mind whirring somewhere miles away. What if he never woke up? That happened sometimes. She'd written Merlin only knew how many articles about it when she'd worked at the _Phoenix_. Coma patients who never regained consciousness, or else ended up only being kept alive by medical and magical means… Her hand clenched painfully around the handle of the coffee mug. If that happened, if he didn't wake up, or…or worse… She wasn't sure if she could bear that. Her heart clenched along with her fists and her whole body felt tense, muscles fraught with fear. She couldn't relax – could barely breathe as she felt panic blocking her airways.

Her world was silent and deafening, empty and raucous, all at the same time. She felt adrift, empty. Worse than that. She felt lost. Completely and utterly lost in the blackest darkness she could imagine.

The only time Hermione could remember feeling such acute desolation was when Ron had abandoned her and Harry during their hunt for the Horcruxes. And even so…there was something different about this. It was torture, seeing Severus this way. He was there, but absent too. Reachable, but not tangible. She couldn't even cry. All she could do was stare and wish and hope, and pray to deities she didn't wholly believe in that he would be okay.

Ginny and Harry had owled her again that morning, and she had owled back to report no change, assuring them that she was fine, but ignoring their pleas to her to go home and get some 'proper rest'. She wouldn't leave him. She _couldn't_ leave him.

Hermione could remember all too well another time, what felt like decades ago, when she had left Severus in a helpless state, cold and alone, and without dignity or love to comfort him. The image of the rotten wood floor of the Shrieking Shack, soaked in his blood, still haunted her to this day. She would never let that happen again. She wouldn't abandon him. Not this time.

* * *

"Is there…any change?" Hermione asked when she was allowed back into the room where Severus was being kept, her voice impossibly quiet as she stared at his still unmoving form, a lump in her throat.

She was expecting the same grim head shake she had been receiving from the Healers since she had arrived the previous night. But Healer McCarthy delivered different news instead.

"Things are looking more positive as far as our examinations can determine. With any luck, Mr Snape should regain consciousness soon. And then we'll be able to assess the full extent of the damage caused by his head wound."

"He…?" Hermione looked up, searching the Healer's dark eyes as she bit her lip, not daring to hope. "He's going to wake up? Soon? He won't…"

"No, Miss Granger." He smiled at her, seeming to understand what she meant by the vacant gap in her speech which words couldn't fill. "He won't remain unconscious forever, or for a long period of time at all."

Nodding, Hermione took her first deep breath in hours and sank down into the chair by Severus' bedside. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, and surprised herself by smiling. "I'm very glad to hear that."

For a moment, McCarthy looked as though he was about poised to leave, when he paused by the door, looking back at Hermione as she reached for Severus' hand again, gently closing her fingers around his. He just watched them, almost frowning for half a minute, before saying quietly:

"You must care for him a great deal."

Thinking he had already left, Hermione jumped, her gaze flying up from Severus' face to look at McCarthy. "Oh…what?"

"I said, you must care for him a great deal." McCarthy smiled, and nodded slightly towards the sleeping figure of the man he'd heard numerous, intimidating stories of from those amongst his younger colleagues who had attended Hogwarts.

"Oh, I, um…" Hermione's gaze dropped back down again, partly in embarrassment. It lingered hesitantly on Severus' face – the closed eyes, the still mouth. What she wouldn't give to see him sneer at her again, for those lips to curl into the smirk she had grown to rather love. After a pause, she looked back up.

"Yes, I… I suppose I do."

McCarthy smiled again, and she couldn't help but be ever so slightly reminded of both Dumbledore and Henrietta when she caught the faint glimmer of a twinkle in his eye. "You haven't even asked why in Merlin's name we came to you when he was brought in. I've read and heard the stories about you, Miss Granger. You're the clever one – the infinitely curious one, always asking questions. I'd have thought that would have been the first question you asked."

Her lips immediately formed a slack, almost comical 'o' shape as the sound fell noiselessly from the end of her tongue.

McCarthy chuckled.

Half puzzled, and half amazed at herself for never even pausing to wonder why it had been her the Healers had tried to contact, Hermione looked up again, frowning. "That is a good point… Why _did_ you contact me? I'm of no relation to him at all, and it's not even like our research partnership is particularly common knowledge, unless…" Her frown deepened, and now it cast a shadow across her tired features. "Carl didn't tell you, did he?"

"Carl?" Now it was the Healer's turn to appear confused. "Who's that?"

"Oh, um… Healer Dixon? He's…err…an ex-boyfriend of mine." It hurt less than she thought it would, Hermione realised, to think of him now. He was a shadow in the past, a relic of what seemed like another age. A dull ache she rarely felt.

"Oh?" McCarthy simply shrugged. "I'm afraid there are thousands of Healers here at 's, some you don't ever see. We must have just never crossed paths."

"Well…um… If it wasn't him, then… How…?"

Smiling, McCarthy just nodded meaningfully to Severus' motionless form again. "He was actually conscious when we found him, but barely. He slipped into the state you see here around half an hour after we got him to the emergency chamber. Before that, he seemed to be struggling; he kept resisting our diagnostic charms, actually, which is quite a feat I assure you, although I suppose a man like that, his defences must be…" He trailed off, and Hermione knew exactly what he was referring to. She bit her lip, waiting to hear the rest.

"He also kept trying to speak, although we couldn't make out what he was saying at first."

"What was he saying?" Hermione felt the stutter of her heart in her chest and swallowed. Her throat was too dry. It hurt.

"Just one word, over and over again," McCarthy told her, almost wistfully as he glanced at Severus again, gaze lingering on where his pale hand was clutched by Hermione's. "Just one." He nodded at her.

"Your name. Hermione."

The air knotted and caught in her throat, eyes widening slightly as she tried to gently ease it down into her lungs. They constricted, and for a moment she was held captive by silence, until after a few long seconds, she trusted herself to speak.

"M-my name? Just… Just my name?"

McCarthy wore a faint smile as he nodded, placing a hand now on the handle of the door. "Just your name."

"…So, you…?"

He seemed to shrug as though it was no big deal. Perhaps it wasn't. Hermione didn't seem to be able tell that to her heart though as it quivered against her ribcage and beat as if it were trying to break through the brittle bones that were there to protect it.

"It wasn't a massive leap from 'Hermione' to 'Hermione Granger, member of the golden trio, former student and present research partner of Severus Snape'. The rest was reasonably easy, once we'd found out where you actually were."

"Oh…" She didn't seem to be able to say much of anything more at that moment in time.

"Anyway," McCarthy said, smiling brightly at her as he opened the door. "Duty beckons, other patients to attend to, healing to be performed."

Hermione could only nod a little shakily as he left, closing the door behind him and leaving her in silence.

* * *

For a long time, she stared at Severus, tracing the paper-thin white of his eyelids with her gaze again, the narrow jaw, the thin lips and dark hair, brushed back from his face. Morbid as it was, she felt acutely that she must know every subtle contour of his skull by now, every rise of bone and dip of flesh that made up his features.

Her gaze moved to where her hand held his, fingers entwined in his without his knowing. His skin was cool, but not cold. She looked at his lips again, remembering how they had felt against hers, gentle and vicious, cutting and caressing. She remembered how alive they had made her feel – how alive _he_ had made her feel. She swallowed.

She wanted that again. She wanted to feel that adrenaline again, the surge of pure, invigorating life through her veins. She wanted the coolness of his skin against hers and the warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms and the harsh lines of his body.

A staggering, shallow gasp came from her, and she let it out as a staccato sigh. Realisation, or – no, something stronger than that, something _more_ – epiphany, that was it. Epiphany slowly sank luxuriously into her consciousness, painful and comforting at once.

She wanted him.

In the most definitive terms, she wanted _him_. She wanted his mind and the way it so easily entwined with hers; she wanted his words and the way he would look at her sometimes, like she was more than the label she wore. She wanted their subtle touches and brushes of skin, and she wanted to kiss him again with none of the anger and rage that she had felt the first time.

"What are you doing to me?"

The words fell from her in a whisper as she reached to lightly touch his face and she found that once she had spoken, more words formed in her head, and she couldn't stop them midstream.

"I don't know what you were doing, or what went wrong, because you never get it wrong… That's my job, I thought we agreed." She smiled a little shakily and squeezed his hand without conscious thought. "I just want you to be okay. You can even blame me if you like, for not being there, or for… I don't even know. I'm quite sure you can't hear me too. But… I just have to say… I just want you be alright, Severus. So…just do that for me, okay? Be alright. For me."

Biting her lower lip, she relaxed her grip on his hand a little and stared at him anxiously, as though expecting his eyes to open at any minute. They didn't, and she let out a long, quivering sigh.

"I miss you," she murmured.

* * *

_**I hope this chapter answered some of your musings on why it was that Hermione was contacted – as I said to one reviewer I think – orlando switch, was it you? :) – that I had planned to put that scene with McCarthy in the last chapter, but decided to leave it till this one because I felt it was kind of too much at once and broke up the mood a little. **_

_**Thank you very much for reading, and just in case I don't manage to update again before Christmas, I'll say Happy Holidays now, and I hope you enjoy your break and get everything you want under the tree. Oh, and enjoy your New Year celebrations too, just in case I do end up busy and don't have chance to update before even then. :P**_

_**Eleantris :)**_


	55. Author's Note

_**Author's Note**_

Okay, *deep breath*. I know some of you might be quite angry and/or disappointed at what I'm about to say, but all I can do is offer my profuse apologies in advance. I tried hard to avoid this but at the end of the day there are certain things I've got to put first.

I'm really sorry to say that I'm going to be putting this story on hold for an indefinite period of time. I honestly don't know when I'll be able to come back to it. Everything's stepping up a gear at school now, and I need to be able to devote so much more of my time to ensuring I study hard enough and do enough extra reading and work to get where I want to be. I'm currently doing my A-levels (our version of America's junior and senior year), and I need top grades in order to be accepted at the kind of universities I have my sights set on (Cambridge is the dream, but I'm also aiming for places like St. Andrews, Durham, UCL…so yeah, there's a lot of pressure and a lot at stake for me at the moment). I've been trying for a while to juggle school and extra-curricular/credit activities with writing fanfiction, but now other personal things have come into the equation and I know I just can't sustain regular enough updates anymore, and my updates haven't even been regular recently to start with. I've had to take the decision to put one of my two stories on hold (the other is in a separate fandom), and unfortunately it is this story that takes up the most time, energy and effort, because I do love it and due to the complex nature of the ship as well. It may even end up that I have to put my other one on hold too, but I'm going to try and sustain it.

The best I can hope for at the moment is to be able to return to updating this story regularly in the summer, but we'll see how it plays out. All I can say is that I am sincerely sorry for any disappointment this might cause, especially considering where I'm leaving the story too. I want to stress that I am not in any way abandoning it, because I couldn't do that; I just don't want to promise to return to posting new chapters by a specific date and then find I'm not able to keep that promise. It's taken me a long time to come to this decision, and it wasn't an easy one to make. I hate the thought of disappointing anyone, but I also hate the thought of what might happen if I don't have the time and energy to devote 100% to my studies whilst also trying to sustain some kind of personal life and my original writing as well.

I want to thank you all for the patience you've already allowed me, and for all your kind, constructive and wonderful comments so far. You've all never failed to put a smile on my face chapter after chapter, and I am sincerely grateful for that. I want to wish you all a slightly belated Happy New Year, and once again, offer my apologies. When I return to posting, I hope it will be on a much more regular basis, and that everything that's kind of going on for me personally at the moment will have settled down.

Thank you again,

Eleantris. :)


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